


Blood Red

by SpookyBitch



Series: Bloody - Bellamy Blake X OC [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Dubious Consent, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Possessive Behavior, Rape Aftermath, Sex, Smut, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 16:02:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 21
Words: 43,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15644139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpookyBitch/pseuds/SpookyBitch
Summary: Not all love is gentle. Sometimes it's gritty and dirty and possessive. Sometimes it's not supposed to be careful or soft at all. Sometimes it feels like teeth. Bellamy Blake X OC





	1. Prologue

Attention: There will be no trigger warnings at the beginning of each chapter.

This work contains elements that could be triggering to some, such as the mention of rape, dubious consent to sex, abusive situations, mentions of blood, suicide, death, murder, somewhat graphic descriptions of murder, somewhat graphic descriptions of sex, sexual situations, panic attacks, gore, etc. This is a fictional story that romanticizes possessive/controlling behavior and some abusive situations. Please be aware of this before continuing.

All rights go to the creators of The 100.

I did my best not to re-write the show scene for scene. Instead, the meat of this is between the scenes that air on TV. The original character (Cheyenne Barnes) is not the main character. The main characters of The 100 are and always will be Clarke Griffin and Bellamy Blake. Cheyenne is supposed to be supplemental to their story while starring in her own.

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Prologue

Red was the most vibrant color on the Ark.

The walls and the floors and the ceilings were gray. The clothes were gray. The people were gray. Even the sun was gray.

And then everything was red.

Her hands were red. Her hair was red, her face was red, her shoes were red, the scissors in her hands were red. Her shirt was splashed red, and the puddle forming beneath her dirty gray boots was the most shocking shade of red she'd ever seen.

As the life behind Anthony Band's eyes faded away, everything that was once a beautiful and lively red became gray again. Tucking the scissors into the back pocket of her jeans, Cheyenne continued her way down the hallway to paint another section of the Ark red. Anthony Band was the first name on her list, and she was going to make damn sure all the names were crossed off before they floated her, especially the last name - her father.


	2. Chapter 1

Day 1

The Skybox was dull but at least it wasn't gray. Cheyenne sat complacently in the cell provided to her in solitary confinement. There was no reason to fight the inevitable execution that awaited her, nor did she care to. On the Ark, there was only one response to murder. On the Ark, there was only one response to things a lot less serious than murder. Everything ended in death, whether it be by sickness, old age, or floating. Or at the hands of a fifteen-year-old girl. Cheyenne sat up to the sound of lunch being delivered.

Instead of a tray being pushed under the door, a guard stepped all the way into her cell. She followed the commands of the guardsman, standing to face the wall and holding out her arm. Though a rush of anxiety pushed into her chest, she ignored the feeling and tried to stay calm. The sound of a commotion from outside of her cell was not reassuring, but she stayed secure in the fact that she still had almost 13 months until she could be floated. A thick, silver band was snapped around her wrist causing her to cry out when the prongs broke the soft flesh unexpectedly. The guardsman ignored her sound of pain to push her out of the cell. Her eyes adjusted to the dimmer lighting of the Skybox and the noises of commotion were clearer once she could see the other juvenile delinquents struggling in the arms of guards. A few were calm, obviously having already made peace with the possibility of floating, just as she had. She was lead to stand in a line of teenagers, none of which she recognized. The line itself moved quickly and before long she was walking through an airlock doorway and into a room full of seats. Sliding into an open seat, she followed everyone else's lead to strap on the harness. With bated breath, she waited for whatever was coming, only hoping that it wouldn't hurt too bad when she finally was able to die.

The sensation of falling was one she'd experienced many times, though it was mostly in the instability of her own mind. This time, the feeling was very real and very obvious because whatever container they were in had disconnected from the Ark. Her stomach rushed into her throat where a scream was released. She wasn't the only one who'd screeched in fear, but the jolt was over almost as soon as it started. The effect of zero gravity had her straining against the straps of her seat. Her small hands moved to grip the sides of her chair, accidentally grabbing onto the hand of the person seated next to her.

"I'm sorry," she gasped out, but she made no move to let go.

"It's okay," the man next to her said. He flipped his much larger hand over to lace their fingers together, holding her just as tightly. The sound of microphone feedback was a buzz in the back of her head - annoying but easily ignored, as was the sound of Chancellor Jaha's voice from somewhere inside of the ship.

Finally gaining the courage to open her eyes, she glanced around the gray ship only to turn toward her neighbor. The eyes that met hers were not gray at all. They were a beautiful brown, a vibrant shade that protested the gray that covered all the things around her.

"What's going on?" she asked. Cheyenne kept up the prolonged eye contact, despite the awkwardness of it, desperate to keep seeing a color other than gray.

His fingers around hers grew unbearably tight when the ship jolted again and gravity began to cause their bodies to tug against the straps. "They're sending us to Earth."

When the ship didn't seem to slow, she wasn't afraid of dying. If the crash didn't kill her, the radiation would. If the radiation didn't kill her, the Earth would. If the Earth didn't kill her, she would kill herself. The whiplash of landing slammed her head into the seat behind her, but not hard enough to do any damage. A solid ten seconds of stillness and silence was ended by the clicking of seatbelts releasing. It took a few seconds longer for the man next to her to force his fingers to release the too-tight grip on her hand that she knew would bruise before the end of the day. He was out of his seat and headed for the door before she'd even shaken the tingle out of her fingers. Instead of following, she took a moment to just breathe and look at the crowd of people gathering just shy of the doors. Some of the other delinquents were shaking with excitement and fear as they pushed and shoved their way toward the door.

Slowly, she pushed her way out of her harness. The door hissed as it fell into the dirt and a few moments later, every person on the ship was pushing and shoving and sprinting out into the now visible sunlight. Cheyenne followed the back of the crowd, looking around in awe. The green of the trees and the brown of the bark and the yellow light of the sun was a huge difference from the gray that had shrouded her mind on the Ark. The wind brushed her hair around her face and the air felt clean as it filled her lungs. The dirt yielded to her boots instead of resisting and the feeling cushioned her walk. The pain she was unaware of faded from her feet and ankles as the ground accommodated her. The very world around her looked beautiful, and for the first time ever, she found that maybe dying wouldn't be a relief from real life.

Several hours later found Cheyenne lying on a soft patch of grass a few yards away from the dropship. Her threadbare hoodie was bundled under her head as a pillow while the grass brushed against the bare skin revealed by her tank top. She'd ditched her boots as quickly as possible, eager to dig her toes into the soft dirt beneath her feet. The sky was a shade of blue she could have never imagined, and the flowers gave her mental image of blue and purple a new definition. The sun made her warm and sleepy, but she'd never let her guard down enough to sleep in the open this way. The thought seemed to pull her out of the haze of happiness. The color seemed to fade away to gray the more aware she became of herself and how reckless she had acted in the face of Earth. After putting her socks and boots back on, she tied her jacket around her waist.

The dropship had shed various length and widths of metal. Picking one with a sharp edge, she cut away a section of the parachute lying on the ground behind the dropship. With the metal tucked safely into the back pocket of her jeans, she folded up the parachute material as small as she could before stuffing it into the pocket of her jacket. It didn't quite fit, but it was good enough to make sure she didn't lose it before she'd be able to erect herself a shelter. Coming around the corner of the dropship, she very nearly ran into a group of people. She looked up, her gaze finding the beautiful brown eyes that held her hand on the way down.

"Oh, sorry - I didn't mean to interrupt," she said quietly, her eyes drifting back down to the ground. People didn't like her to look them in the eye. The guards that served her rations said she looked too hollow.

The man's large hand came to rest on her shoulder for a moment, giving her a small smile that didn't reach his eyes. "You okay?"

Cheyenne nodded without looking up, keeping her eyes on his chest.

The boy in front of him resumed the conversation before she could walk away after looking her up and down for a moment. "So, the wristbands help them. You said we could stop it. How?"

"Take them off. The Ark will think you're dead, that's it's not safe to follow." Brown Eyes glanced down at Cheyenne again, watching as she inspected her own bracelet at the mention.

"Right, and if we do," the other two males glanced at one another before the one with the swept back hair continued, "I mean, what's in it for us?"

"Someone's got to help me run things."

This made Cheyenne glance up to look at all three of them. The group seemed to dissipate at that, though Brown Eyes stayed standing next to her. A slight awkward flavor seemed to bloom in the air before Cheyenne moved. She made a few steps toward the open forest before pausing.

"Thank you," she said quietly, turning to glance at Brown Eyes over her shoulder. "For, uh, letting me hang on to you, on the way down."

"Yeah, you're welcome." His voice was smooth and deep, and his words were not unkind despite the fact that they seemed slightly forced. "What's your name?"

Surprise flooded her chest, her eyes finally meeting his and sticking. "Cheyenne Barnes, from Mecha Station." She was even more surprised when he answered in kind.

"Bellamy Blake, from Factory Station." He gave her another almost smile that didn't reach his eyes before heading back toward the front of the dropship.

Cheyenne slipped into the forest, her footsteps just as light as they were on the Ark. Paying attention to her feet had become second nature when skulking around Mecha Station, hiding from her father and the guards and everyone else that lived in the tin can in the sky. The heat of the sun wasn't enough to make her forget the ice of space pressing in from all sides. With an arm full of sticks, she moved to a spot several yards away from the dropship. It took a bit of time, but eventually, a small fire was going. It made the blisters on her hands seem worth it to see the fruit of her labor burning the wood she'd stacked. The Chancellor's son, Wells Jaha, had noticed her efforts and assisted by making a stack of wood far larger than she could have carried on her own. Him helping her seemed to lessen the surprise that the Chancellor would be cold enough to send his own son down to die like a common criminal. There were no efforts to make small talk when he sat next to her, but he introduced himself. She didn't shake his extended hand. Cheyenne hoped the smile she tried to push forward looked more like a smile and less like the grimace it was. There was still red on her hands, and she didn't want to get it on Wells.

When the sun started to go down, people began to gather around the fire. Instead of staying near the fire she had built, Cheyenne grabbed an arm full of wood and a torch. She picked a place far enough from the others that she wouldn't be bothered, but still close enough to the dropship just in case. The noise from the other campers was grating on her nerves and hunger had started to settle in her stomach, but she sat staring at her small fire until it was only embers. An itching feeling began to spread to the skin around her bracelet. She scratched absently at it. A wet feeling dripped onto her skin, drawing her attention from her wrist to the sky.

Euphoria spread through her as the water dropped on her from above. Scrambling to her feet, she spread her arms out wide and turned her face to the sky. Rain tasted heavenly compared the re-re-recycled water on the Ark. Turning abruptly to face the gaze she felt, her eyes met those of Bellamy Blake. He was staring at her from next to the other fire, a small smile on his face that made his beautiful brown eyes shine and dimples appear on his cheeks. The smile she returned him mirrored it with realness, showing a set of straight white teeth and wrinkles at the corner of her eyes. For a few moments, she almost believed that the rain had washed away the red painting her hands and her face and her hair and her clothes. Reality rushed through her. The smile dropped from her face and tears filled her eyes to mix with the rain. Bellamy's expression copied her own, though from his happiness came confusion and concern.

With a quickness in her step, she pushed herself into the dropship and up the ladder. Cheyenne didn't flinch or recoil in disgust when she found the two dead boys on the second floor. Instead, she gave them a cursory glance and headed up to be alone with her own ghosts on the third floor. There was no need to add those burdens to her own.


	3. Chapter 2

Day 2

Morning crept through the forest before anyone realized it was coming. With a poor night of sleep behind her, Cheyenne dragged herself down the ladder to start the day. The bodies were gone from the second floor, but her hunger had stayed and the itch beneath her wristband had turned to pain. On the first floor, Cheyenne caught sight of a shirtless Bellamy lying down with a girl on his chest. The urge to throw up crawled from her stomach to her throat only to intensify when she realized he was awake and watching the look of revulsion on her face. A whispered apology escaped her lips without permission before she left the dropship entirely.

Unlike the previous day, there was no reason to crowd around the campsite the delinquents were obviously claiming. Cheyenne slipped into the forest behind the dropship. Despite having been on the Earth for only a day, she already felt as if she was becoming one with the trees and the grass and the leaves and the very air that surrounded her. She slipped into the forest as easy as breathing, her hunter green tank top blending well with the leaves and her dark hair making her one with the bark. Wandering the forest was a treat that kept her mind out of the dark corners that painted everything red and gray. It distracted her from the hunger in her stomach and the pain from her wristband and the irrational jealousy that lingered in her chest after seeing Bellamy with that girl. After stumbling on a bush full of berries, she tore off a piece of the parachute to wrap them in. She inspected them as well as she could before eating one, hoping that they would and wouldn't kill her all at once. When she didn't drop dead, she continued to eat them until she had curbed her hunger. The rest were wrapped up to take back.

The sun was high in the sky when she stepped back into camp, and the pain in her wrist was becoming unbearable. The skin beneath and around the bracelet was chafed and raw, about to bleed in some places. A cluster of delinquents caught her attention when they began shouting about fighting. Curiosity brought her stepping into the first gap in people she saw, and she almost backed out when she realized she was next to Bellamy. The jealousy was still swirling hot inside her head. Wells and the boy from the day before were in the middle of a knife fight. Part of her wanted to be surprised at the viciousness from some of those around her before she glanced at her hands and saw the red dripping from her fingertips. Everyone could be bloodthirsty if they had a motive, she supposed.

"That doesn't look so good," Bellamy spoke up quietly. Her eyes met his, filled with terror. For a moment, she thought he could see the blood that stained her. Then, he clarified. "Your bracelet; it looks like they put it on crooked."

There was no indecision in her eyes when she glanced from him to the bracelet. "Will you take it off, please?"

She wasn't looking up to see his nod, so he gave her a "yeah." Suddenly, their attention was elsewhere. The knife fight was over, with Wells the victor as he held his to the other boy's throat. Then there were people coming out of the woods; Clarke Griffin if she recognized correctly with a boy that she had seen around Mecha Station a few times and two other people. Bellamy was with the girl so fast, Cheyenne would have believed he teleported had she not seen him run. The crowd had dissipated once Clarke had delivered the news about grounders. Though she knew she should be afraid, Cheyenne felt no fear surrounded by the trees that allowed her to become one with them. Without so many people around, she felt a little more comfortable about walking up to Bellamy and the girl with the injured leg. She pulled the large bundle of berries from her jacket pocket to give to them as an offering of peace.

"Here," she said, thrusting them toward the two. Realizing her smile might not look quite like a smile, she stopped trying and kept her eyes on their knees. Bellamy's hand grabbed the bundle. "I ate a lot of them earlier, they aren't poisonous. She should eat if she's hurt."

Bellamy's gaze burned holes in her face. He knew she knew he was staring and it bothered him that she had such an issue with meeting his eyes. "Thank you; give me a sec, and I'll get that wristband off of you." He moved to walk away before thinking better of it. "This is my sister, Octavia; O, this is Cheyenne." Then he was gone to find a pry-bar.

"Thank you," was the first thing Octavia said. "I'm starving."

"I was, too, when I found them this morning." Cheyenne moved toward her leg to see the damage. "Do you mind if I look?" Octavia gave her the go ahead, and Cheyenne poked and prodded at her leg for a second, making sure not to touch the injury lest it gets infected. "As long as you don't strain it, it should heal quickly. The wound is just skin deep."

"Were you training to be a doctor?" Octavia asked.

"No, I just know from personal experience."

Cheyenne made no move to clarify and Octavia didn't ask. Bellamy returned a few minutes later, grabbing a handful of berries to shove in his mouth before motioning for Cheyenne's arm. Instead of handing him her arm, she looked into his expressive eyes. He didn't seem to notice the nothingness in hers. Her hands trembled and tears filled her eyes, just as they did in the rain. She weighed the options in her mind, the process feeling like it took years but only took a few seconds of hesitation. Let a man touch her to take off the bracelet or let the skin fester and become infected? She was relieved when the choice was taken from her. The callouses on his hands were rough but his touch was gentle against her skin.

"This is going to hurt, but I have to get this between your skin and the bracelet, okay?"

Cheyenne nodded her consent. It hurt, just as he said it would. It made fire erupt against the irritated skin and when he pressed the metal into her hand to pop the bracelet open, it felt like her wrist would break. Her face showed no pain aside from the clench of her jaw, much to the surprise of the siblings. They didn't know that she had already felt worse, much worse than anything a bracelet or a grounder could do. Bellamy tossed the old wrist band into the bushes near them. He'd grabbed her hand to inspect the irritated skin before she could pull her arm back. It was a coincidence when Clarke appeared next to him, but he'd already pulled Cheyenne a little closer to show the older girl.

"Check out her arm, make sure it's okay." This time, it was Bellamy that avoided her gaze, instead turning to Octavia. "You could have been killed."

"She would have been if Jasper didn't jump in to pull her out," Clarke said, lifting her hard gaze from Cheyenne's wrist to Bellamy for a moment. She twisted and turned Cheyenne's arm gently, and the feeling was soothing rather than nerve-wracking when her fingers brushed over the irritated skin. "There's no broken skin, so you should be safe from infection. If the redness doesn't go down in a little while, bring it back to me, okay?"

"Are you guys leaving? I'm coming, too," Octavia said, interrupting the reply Cheyenne would have never made. She made a move to get down but was stopped by Bellamy's hand on her shoulder and a negative remark.

"He's right, your leg is just going to slow us down." Clarke's statement stilled Octavia's eagerness. The eye contact she held with Bellamy was enough to make Cheyenne uncomfortable with its intensity. "I'm here for you. I hear you have a gun."

The rest of their conversation was a blur as Cheyenne focused on the tan expanse of skin Bellamy revealed with the butt of a handgun. Her hands trembled slightly, remembering the weight of a gun almost identical in her hands and the splashes of red that came with pulling the trigger. It was absentmindedly that she began to follow them as they moved. Even distracted, her steps were silent over the forest floor. The red slipping from her hands dripped a trail behind her, leaving splashes all over the green grass. Grey crept into the corners of her vision until she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey, are you okay?" It was Bellamy's large hand and Bellamy's beautiful brown eyes that scared away the gray in her head. The trembling in her hands didn't stop, but her labored breathing evened out and became silent once again. "Cheyenne?" he questioned again when she didn't answer, too caught up in his eyes to form a response.

"Yeah, I'm, uh, I'm fine," she said quietly. Looking around herself, she realized that she didn't recognize the trees around her. "Where are we?"

A wrinkle formed between Bellamy's eye brows. "We're going to find Jasper, the kid that was taken by the grounders. Are you sure you're okay?" His hand drifted down her shoulder to grip onto her arm just above the elbow. His hand was tight but not hurtful. The concern on his face was intense, just like the rest of him seemed to be. "Maybe you should go back."

The words cut through her like a knife. They made her feel weak, but they made her feel like he cared. Even if he didn't, pretending like he did was more than Cheyenne had ever felt back on the Ark. The gentle way that he'd removed her wristband and how tightly he'd held her hand when they crashed into the Earth made her want to latch onto his presence. Instead of pulling away from his hand as instinct told her to do, she stepped closer to him. He was dangerous, but he was making her feel things that chased away the lingering gray in her vision and the red that dripped from her fingertips.

"I'll stay," she said quietly, her voice unwavering but her intentions weak. If he told her to go back, she would without question. "The forest is easy to read. If we go back to where he was taken, I think I can pick up a trail."

His nod of affirmation came after a second too long. With his grip still on her arm, he pulled her in the direction of the others, intending to catch up. He let go once they were in sight, but stayed at her side. They fell into step with Murphy, watching as Wells and Clarke stomped ahead. Cheyenne was surprised by the amount of noise everyone around her made. Their footfalls seemed to crash through the forest. Her hand found Bellamy's forearm before she could talk herself out of it.

"Step higher and put your foot down heel first." He and Murphy both looked at her with confusion coloring their faces. "Both of you are very loud."

To demonstrate, she sped up to walk between the two pairs, her footfalls silent and leaving the ground almost undisturbed in her wake. The fluid way she moved between the trees and the bushes made it seem as if she'd grown up on the ground instead of a space station. Distracted by the sight of her thighs flexing as she crouched, Bellamy's foot came down on a large branch. The sound echoed through the trees and the warm tingle of embarrassment bloomed under his skin. Cheyenne's eyes seemed to burn him when they glanced back over her shoulder.


	4. Chapter 3

Day 2 (Continued)

The group of five had slipped through several miles of trees. With Cheyenne's advice, Bellamy and Murphy had reduced the noise they were making greatly. Every few minutes, a flash of alarm would spring to life in Bellamy's chest as she slipped out of his line of sight. Her silence steps made her a part of the forest and his eyes were not yet trained enough to keep sight of her. Murphy's voice sounded quietly in the forest, muffled slightly by the sounds they were making. Bellamy responded equally as quiet. Cheyenne only heard bits and pieces, but the words "wristband" and "princess" made her eyes zoom in on Clarke's arm. She had noticed the other delinquents having their wristbands removed earlier in the day, but as she did her best to avoid human interaction, there was no curiosity as to why. Hearing Bellamy talk about it made a small tinge of curiosity come to life.

"Hey, hold up! What's the rush?" Bellamy's deep voice boomed through the trees, bringing Cheyenne to a halt before she realized he wasn't talking to her. "You don't survive a spear through the heart." His gun was in his hand as he over took her position and came up on Wells and Clarke.

"Put the gun away, Bellamy," Wells said, stepping in front of the older man. He squared up to both Bellamy and Murphy when the latter shoved his shoulder to move him away.

Cheyenne's steps faltered, bringing her to a stop at Bellamy's elbow. They bickered for a moment while her eyes stayed on the gun. Red crept from his hand on the grip of the gun, dripping into a puddle on the ground. His tanned skin was soaked in the color. Unable to look away, the world around her had faded to gray and panic burst to life in her chest when all she could hear was white noise buzzing in her head. Finn appeared out of nowhere behind her before taking off with Clarke. Wells and Murphy dispersed as well at a nod of Bellamy's head, but she still didn't snap out of her stupor until Bellamy made a move to put the gun back into the waistband of his pants. The sounds of the forest filled the air, greens and browns filtering back into her vision. Her hand pressed hard against her chest as she fought to bring her breathing back under control. The hope of him having not noticed her second lapse of the day was dashed as soon as he turned to look at her.

"Cheyenne, whoa, whoa, slow down." His hands were spread wide as they came at her too quickly, his voice a rumble as he tried to soothe her. A strangled noise erupted from her throat as she backed away from him. The look of terror in her eyes shot straight through his heart. No one had ever looked at him that way before. The fear written on her face felt awful and good and captivating all at the same time. "Hey, hey, hey, I've got you, just breathe."

She would have crashed to the ground had his hands not shot out to grab her upper arms. Even with the support on her upper half, her knees buckled beneath her to bring them both to the ground. Sitting in front of her, Bellamy drew her forward until her hand was splayed on his chest and his steady heartbeat thumped into her hand. He coached her into slow, deliberate breaths as if she were Octavia terrified to slip under the floor. What seemed like an eternity to her was only a few moments for him. They sat under the canopy of trees, her empty green eyes staring back at his too full brown eyes.

"What happened?" Bellamy asked, breaking the silence surrounding them.

Cheyenne tried to swallow past the lump in her throat. Her hands still trembled but her voice was mostly steady when she tried to answer him. "Dr. Griffin said they're panic attacks."

"Do you know what causes them?" Her tenseness at the question was immediate. She didn't want to answer, but after seeing her on the verge of losing it twice that day, there was no way he was letting her out of it. "What is it?" he asked when she finally nodded.

"Sometimes it's PTSD flashbacks. Sometimes it's sensory overload." Her eyes dropped to where her small hand was still over his pectoral muscle. Tan skin invited her eyes to soak him in, now that he was closer and she was no longer stuck in a battle against herself. His mouth moved to ask her another question but she interrupted him by blurting, "It was your gun today. Sometimes it's caused by people touching me."

"That's why you left the fire last night." It wasn't a question, but she nodded anyway.

Before they could say anything more, Clarke's voice calling through the trees interrupted them. Cheyenne met his eyes again. Her own held more life than they had minutes ago, bringing a slither of relief to him. The dead look her eyes following the sheer terror that filled them made something he didn't know existed come to life in the space behind his heart. It would break him to see a look like that on Octavia's face. Bellamy pulled them both to their feet, his hand fitting around her small wrist easily. They moved through the bushes quietly. He tried to follow her instructions again with more results now that he was putting forth actual effort. When they broke the tree line, Cheyenne stayed behind him, not wanting anyone to notice any lingering effects of her panic attack. Her eyes were drawn to where Bellamy's hand still held her, watching the red stain on her hands as if it would spread to his as well. It didn't and this caused a tension she was unaware of release in her shoulders.

"We found something," Clarke said. She glanced down at the place where Bellamy and Cheyenne were connected but didn't comment. "This way."

She and Finn led the way down a small embankment where the water was lined with gravel. Pointing out the blood, they followed the disturbance in the rocks with him at the lead. If anyone noticed how close Cheyenne stuck to Bellamy, no one pointed it out. It was nearing an hour later when Finn knelt to examine the ground. It seemed as if the trail was cold.

"How do we know this is the right way?" Murphy asked, standing toward the rear of the group.

"We don't," Bellamy chimed in. "Spacewalker thinks he's a tracker."

"It's called 'cutting-sign', from fourth year Earth Skills. He's good," Wells said. His voice was confident but Cheyenne felt as if this was said more for Clarke's benefit than in defense of Finn.

When Finn's head lifted from his spot on the ground to scan the area around them, Cheyenne pulled her hand out of Bellamy's grip to creep up beside him. She glanced over the disturbance in the dirt before peering into the water and bushes. When a snapped twig caught her eye, she brought herself to a standing position again.

"Look, this is moved," she said quietly to get Finn's attention.

Stepping around the bush brought her to another displaced rock, this time with red drops on it. A sharp breath was sucked into her throat. Was the blood on the rock in her head or was it really there this time? With no real way to tell the difference, she pretended not to see, hoping Finn would catch it. There was no need to wonder when a distant groan reached their ears. Clarke commented on Bellamy's gun before she was off and crashing through the bushes with Finn and Wells. Murphy followed, and Bellamy's hand on her lower back guided Cheyenne to walk between them. There was a natural tree line separating them from an open thicket area. Jasper was strung up in the tree, blood smeared on his bare chest as he moaned in pain. When Clarke sprinted forward, everyone else followed. Cheyenne hung back a few steps behind everyone. Her heart slammed up into her throat when the ground gave way beneath the older girl to show a pit of spikes, with Bellamy Blake's fast reflexes the only thing between her and a miserable death. She was unable to make herself move forward even when everyone else moved to help him pull Clarke out of the pit.

Finn and Murphy moved to cut Jasper down from the tree while Wells, Clarke, and Bellamy stayed put by the pit of spikes. Finally, Cheyenne pushed her legs forward, each step more careful than the last lest she end up falling into her grave. Her hand crept out to grip Bellamy's sleeve tightly. Surprising herself and him and Clarke and Wells, Cheyenne pushed herself into his arm, sandwiching herself between him and Clarke. Human contact usually sent her into a panic, but they had both already shown interest in her well-being. The thought gave her some small relief, the same way the trees did when she was alone in the forest. Only two days on Earth, and already this place was making her change from the girl creeping around Mecha Station hoping to die into someone that could ghost through the forest and overcome her issues to touch someone for comfort.

The low growl that sounded through the trees made her ears ring. Bellamy's arm reached around her to pull her snugly against his back with his entire body shielding her, and both of her hands gripped tightly to the back of his jacket. She could feel Clarke's heat against her own back as she crowded them. Reaching back with one hand, she grabbed onto Clarke's hand tightly before Wells had pulled the other girl back behind him.

"Bellamy, gun!" the blonde shouted as a black feline slid into view.

Cheyenne felt Bellamy's hand brush against her stomach as he reached for the gun that was no longer there. Shots were fired out from behind them, coming from Wells' direction. Backing up blindly, she tried to keep up with Bellamy's retreat as the feline made a direct path toward them. When it disappeared into the tall grasses directly to their front, instinct drove Cheyenne away from him to crouch low to the ground near the pit of spikes. Her hand gripped his to pull him down just as it leaped from the grass. Wells' shot finally hit its mark, seconds after Bellamy would have been a chew toy.

"Now she sees you." Bellamy's voice was hoarse, but he knew Wells would hear and understand. He helped Cheyenne to her feet, hyper aware of the way she had pushed herself against him in fear and the way her soft stomach had felt beneath his hand when he reached for his gun. "Are you okay?" he demanded, pulling her into him.

Cheyenne nodded, her hands shaking again, this time from the adrenaline dump her body was experiencing. Instead of restrictive, the arm locked around her lower back and the hard chest pressing into her own was comforting. Bellamy's large hand was splayed wide against her hip and waist. With a shaky breath in, she realized what this feeling was - trust. She had felt trust when she let him remove her wristband earlier in the day and accepted his help during her panic attack. She had felt trust when Clarke examined the irritated skin of her wrist and when she'd latched onto her hand minutes before. The thought of trusting others made her stomach fill with disgust for herself. She'd never trusted anyone before, not people she'd known her whole life, and certainly not strangers who held her hand on dropships and strangers who cared about the well-being of people other than themselves. Even though it was intense, the self-hatred that welled in her couldn't make her pull herself from the safety of Bellamy's hold.

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It was dark by the time they made it back to camp. The light of the fire was visible relatively far out, but Cheyenne had led them back with no trouble. The forest was easily navigable to her, even in the dark, but the others were not as lucky. Once they made it to the border of camp, Cheyenne stood to the side, allowing Clarke to lead in Finn and Wells carrying Jasper first. Bellamy and Murphy came next with the panther wrapped in Cheyenne's parachute. Instead of walking through the people that crowded around them, she slipped around the side of camp, not noticing the way Bellamy's gaze followed her until she was hidden by the side of the dropship.

A few hours passed mostly in silence. Cheyenne had built a smaller fire off to the side of the dropship and had collected her own water and another bundle of berries from the bush she'd found earlier in the day. The moon was high in the sky when a pair of footsteps made their way in her direction. Her green eyes snapped up to meet Bellamy's before he lowed himself next to her.

"Room for one more?" he asked quietly, not wanting to disturb the peace she'd erected for herself. He passed her a stick with meat on the end and brought his own up to eat.

"No," she finally answered, honestly. She grabbed her bundle of berries and a small bucket of water to place within his reach. "But I've got room for you."

They sat side by side until her fire had died down to embers. When he stood to walk away, she was surprised to see he'd extended a hand to help her up. Her hand was tiny compared to his. Once on her feet, he didn't let go. His fingers folded around her wrist as he pulled her toward a large tent that had popped up using parachute material within the last few hours. While she wanted to question him as to what they were doing, she didn't. Questions had not served her well in the past and she assumed they wouldn't now. They had slipped into the tent without seeing many others, aside from Murphy and Mbege that were seated at the larger fire on watch. Neither of them spared a glance.

Heat had gathered in the tent. A nest of warm looking material was on one side while a table made from some wood and a sheet of metal from the dropship was on the other. A small pile of clothes was off to the side. The fire outside lit up the inside of the tent more than well enough to see. When she turned to look at Bellamy, her heart broke to pieces in her chest. He sat shirtless on the nest of material, pulling the boots from his feet. Trusting him hadn't been a conscious choice, but neither was assuming he had only brought her here to fuck her. It seemed she had been right on both accounts; she could trust him but she still had to fuck him to be useful. A swell of self-hatred flittered down the back of her neck when, instead of leaving, she removed her threadbare hoodie and sat next to him to remove her boots as well.

She felt hollow when their eyes met.

"You don't have to do this, Cheyenne," he whispered. His eyes flickered down to her lips before meeting her empty green eyes.

"I know," she lied. She'd heard that before.

His lips brushed against hers carefully, slowly. Humiliation filled her when she realized that she did want this, she wanted him. His tongue brushed against hers and his teeth dug into her bottom lip when he pulled back. When her hand came up to tangle in the curls of his hair, something snapped in him. Rough hands gripped her hips tight enough to bruise even through the fabric of her jeans. Bellamy pulled her small form onto his lap, her knees on either side of his hips. Cheyenne wrapped around him perfectly. Her small fingers curled tightly into his hair as his mouth left a trail of bite marks down the side of her neck. He knew they would be purple and blue in the morning. The thought encouraged him to leave more down her shoulder and along the top of her breasts. He fought with himself to get her shirt off without having to remove his mouth from her body.

The hole in her chest grew when she didn't stop him. Encouraging gasps escaped her parted lips once her bra was flung elsewhere in the tent, his large body covering her own completely once he'd laid her down. A trail of love bites followed his mouth down to the line of her pants where he struggled to get the tight material off her thighs. The unfamiliar feeling of arousal had started to gather somewhere between her legs and in the pit of her stomach and in the tips of her fingers and toes. Her body enjoyed the feeling of his fingers and the way his mouth made its way back to hers, even as her mind screamed for her to stop him. But she couldn't stop him. She knew firsthand what happened to girls that said no to the men that wanted them. Cheyenne shook with anticipation when she felt his fingers disappear. Then he was filling her and grabbing her skin tightly with his hands and her name slipping from his mouth where his head was resting next to hers. She felt the sting of her body trying to accommodate him, but for the first time, it was a good sting and familiar hands were leaving finger print shaped bruises instead of terror deep in her bones and the hands of someone she didn't know.

Bellamy pulled his head up to look her in the eyes. Alarms and warning bells filled his head when her face was vacant and tears had filled her eyes. "What's wrong? Am I hurting you?"

Her gaze left the top of the tent to meet his beautiful brown eyes. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but she was out of her own head and back in the tent with him again.

"You're crying, Cheyenne. Is something wrong? Have I done something?" A tightness had formed in his chest and he tensed with his thoughts, terrified that he had read the entire situation wrong. "Please, talk to me."

The gray that had overtaken her was fading away, slowly but surely, starting with the gorgeous brown of his eyes. One of her hands left his hair to brush her fingertips along his cheekbones and down the side of his neck. The trail of bright red left in their wake was beautiful against the tan of his skin. "I'm okay, Bellamy; you can keep going."

Slightly reassured, he kissed her again, deeply as if he could make his lips touch her soul. His hips crept back to push again, falling into a choppy rhythm with her thighs in his hands and her knees around his waist. The feeling of him moving against her and inside of her and around her had her eyes fluttering closed. When the image of another took the place of his face, her eyes snapped back open. Instead of closing them again, she took the time to memorize the placement of the freckles spanning his nose and the way his hair curled against his forehead with the sweat that dripped onto her face. Focusing on the feeling and the smell and the taste of him, she brushed open mouthed kisses on his neck and mumbled his name against his skin as her orgasm rushed through every inch of her skin. The feeling of her nails digging into his back hard enough to draw blood and the way she tightened around him made Bellamy fly over the edge. His hands tightened around her thighs hard enough to hurt and he rocked against her a few more times. Adjusting his weight, he rested lightly on her and heavily on the elbows that were now on either side of her head. He kept his head tucked into her neck as they both trembled from exertion. Once he had softened, he pulled out of her slowly, groaning at the feeling of overstimulation. His arm propped his head up to watch her as she turned to face him.

Darkness lurked in her green eyes, the eyes that matched the forest around them. Instead of letting her leave, Bellamy pulled her toward him to rest her head on his chest, hoping she would ignore how hard his heart was thumping. It was easy to follow the light she exuded, the light that had lit up the woods on their trek home, the light that had bloomed when she'd dragged him out of the way of the predator stalking them in the thicket. But he wanted to see the darkest parts of her, the demons that lurked in her mind and her heart. He wanted to see the darkness and follow her anyway. A girl as damaged as her could accept a man as damaged as him, and that was what he craved.

Cheyenne kept her eyes open as long as she could. Sleep was not her friend, especially when she was pressed up against someone else's heat and wrapped in their arms. She was disgusted with the way she'd given in and trusted this man that she'd known for less than forty-eight hours, but he'd made her feel something other than the sick emptiness that lurked in her chest. His eyes chased away the gray that crowded her eyes, his skin had rejected the red that was ever present and staining her hands. His touch made her crave more, instead of making her want to die. Finally, she was unable to stay awake and sleep took her into its hateful embrace. For the first night, since she was a child, nightmares did not dance with the demons in her head.


	5. Chapter 4

Day 3

The sun was high in the sky when Cheyenne woke up the next day. Clumps of her dirty dark hair were draped over her face and her left hand was numb from where she'd been sleeping on it. Sitting up, she pressed the covers to her chest and looked around the tent. The disorientation faded, reminding her where she was and why. Bellamy was nowhere to be found in the tent, but she had expected that once she realized that it was already afternoon. As if her thoughts had summoned him, the tent flap was pushed open and he was there, brown eyes drinking in the sight of her still naked in his bed. He crouched next to her and brushed some of the hair back from her face, ignoring the flinch brought on by his hand moving too quickly.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked. A cup of water in his other hand was given to her. Her nod made a smile tug at his lips, one that made his eyes squint. "Me too; I was going to wake you up this morning, but you looked like you needed the sleep."

The half full cup of water was set aside and her now free hand brushed against the side of his face. Red streaked across his skin from her fingers but didn't stay. "I'm sorry I overslept."

This brought a chuckle out of his throat. "You can sleep as long as you want. You can do whatever you want. There are no rules here." The tone in his voice was mocking but not at her. His thoughts drifted back to what he'd done to Atom the night before.

"There are always rules, Bellamy." Her head leaned forward to rest on his shoulder. "Even if you don't know them yet, they're still there."

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Day 5

Cheyenne stepped carefully up the ladder of the dropship with one arm wrapped around a basket of berries. Octavia had made the basket and given it to Cheyenne so she could collect edible plants while wandering the forest during the day. Finally finding Clarke, she pushed the basket away from the edge and hauled herself the rest of the way up the ladder. Wells, Finn, and Monty were watching as Clarke heated a knife in the small fire. The three males were already holding Jasper down, waiting for Clarke to make a move.

"Annie, come here, and hold his head still, please," Clarke said, breaking the surprised stupor. Though she had phrased it like a request, the was no room to tell her no. The nickname surprised her, too. No one had ever given her a nickname before.

"I brought you something to feed him. The berries can be crushed up like past for him to swallow," Cheyenne said quietly, doing as Clarke said. She shed her sweatshirt before moving her arms to cradle the top of Jasper's head against her chest. There was a silent moment before she glanced up and realized everyone was staring at her. "What?" she barely breathed, immediately uncomfortable with being the center of attention.

It was Finn that responded first. "Is someone hurting you?" he asked plainly. His eyes raked down her throat and the top of her chest where her tank top hung, horror affecting his features. Old and fading bruises had been replaced with new darker ones from the nights she spent with Bellamy.

Cheyenne shook her head in the negative, dropping her eyes back down to look at Jasper's pale and sweating face.

"Are you sure? That looks pretty rough." Wells moved around Jasper to reach for her wrist, which was also bruised, but recoiled when she flinched away. "Cheyenne, you didn't have these marks our first night here."

"I'm fine, really. No one is hurting me," she whispered. Her eyes met Clarke's across the injured body before them. "I would tell you, Clarke."

Clarke nodded, eyeing her up again before resuming her earlier actions. "Alright, Wells, get over here and hold him."

Wells did as she said and Cheyenne resumed her comforting but tight hold on his head to keep him from thrashing. He started screaming seconds after Clarke began to cut away the infected flesh of his chest. Though she wasn't very strong, the strength to help Jasper came easily to her once she saw how much pain he was in. It felt like hours before Octavia was storming up the ladder and yelling at Clarke with Bellamy hot on her heels. Wells was on his feet and in Bellamy's face before he could look at anyone in the room.

"We didn't drag him through miles of woods just to let him die," Clarke said, glaring up at Bellamy.

"The kid's a goner, and if you can't see that, you're deluded." His glare didn't waver from the side of Clarke's head. "He's making people crazy."

This brought Clarke's head back around to ignore him. "Sorry if Jasper's an inconvenience to you, but this isn't the Ark. Down here, every life matters."

"Take a look at him. He's a lost cause."

Cheyenne stared hard at Bellamy, seeing through the hateful face he put on toward Clarke. He finally moved his gaze up to look at Jasper himself, though quickly his eyes found Cheyenne near his head. He swallowed hard when he saw her bruises in the clear light of the fire. It was the first time her sweatshirt had been off in the daylight in days, and now he understood why. Shame, hot and angry and pulsing shame, flooded every inch of his body. It made his hands tremble and his chest burn and his jaw clench so tightly his teeth creaked.

"Octavia," Clarke began, breaking their stare with her voice. "I've spent my whole life watching my mother heal people. If I say there's hope, there's hope."

Bellamy interrupted before Octavia could respond, an edge in his voice that wasn't there before cutting through the air. "This isn't about hope, it's about guts. You don't have the guts to make the hard choices. I do." He shook his head, backing away from Wells' still aggressive stance. "He's been like this for three days. If he's not better by tomorrow, I'll kill him myself."

A few hours were passing in a blur as Clarke finished cutting the rest of the infected flesh away. After that, the group dispersed from around Jasper with only Monty and Octavia remaining. Cheyenne slipped her sweatshirt back over her head and retreated down the ladder before anyone could ask her any more questions. Escaping into the trees, the forest welcomed her as its own.

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Bellamy and Charlotte sprinted through the trees with Atom hot on their heels. The acid fog was gaining on them rapidly and every time they would slow it would get closer. Finally, they made it into a cave. Charlotte continued further back, while Bellamy turned back for a moment, peering through the fog to try to see Atom. When he didn't emerge from the fog, Bellamy had to ignore every instinct that shouted for him to go back. When Charlotte let out a short scream, his attention was drawn into the cave.

"Charlotte, what's wrong?" he demanded, coming around the bend of the cave.

"Nothing, I'm okay!" Charlotte shouted back.

When he came around to the back of the cave, Cheyenne standing with a half-eaten apple in her hand was the last thing he expected to see. She watched as the air seemed to rush out of his chest all at once. He was on her in a few strides, grabbing her hard and pulling her into his chest. Though she wanted to know what was wrong, she didn't ask. If he wanted to tell her, he would, just as he had every night since the first. The anger in his eyes was something she wasn't at all prepared for when he pushed her away by her upper arms.

"Why the hell are you out here?" he demanded. His grip hurt her upper arms but she didn't try to pull away. "Why aren't you back at camp? I thought you were with Clarke."

Unable to meet his eyes, Cheyenne dropped her head. "She went to go find some medicine for Jasper. Finn and Wells went with her and you were gone. So, I left." She gasped when he shook her hard before pulling her back into his chest. Both of her small hands grabbed a fist full of his shirt. "I'm sorry," she whimpered, hiding her face in the material.

"You can't do that anymore." His voice was demanding and angry. "I want to know where you are – it isn't safe out here."

Tears pricked behind her eyes as she nodded against him. "I'm sorry," she repeated, just as quiet as the first time. Her breath started to come in quick gasps, and his arms felt like they were squeezing the life out her. She was safe, though. Safe was the word burned into her mind when she thought of Bellamy Blake, or heard his voice, or felt his skin.

"Don't, no, don't cry," Bellamy said quietly. His voice had changed again, still deep but soothing and comforting, like the way his hand brushed her hair from her face in the mornings before the sun came up. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, I'm so sorry." His arms loosened from their vice like grip but kept her close, one of his hands moving up to smooth down her hair.

Charlotte watched with the exchange with wide eyes and the feeling that this was something she shouldn't be seeing. Trying to be quiet, she moved to sit on a small stone outcrop in the wall. She pretended like she couldn't hear his apologies or the soft sniffles of the girl she'd never met until now while Bellamy rocked her as if she were a child. Eventually, they parted and the girl moved to sit near her feet while he shed his jacket to drape over Charlotte.

"Try to get some sleep, Charlotte," he said quietly. His hand was heavy on her shoulder but not harsh.

Charlotte smiled up at him, glancing at the mouth of the cave wearily. "What about the acid fog? Will it get in here?"

"No, we're safe here, I promise."

Cheyenne watched as he interacted with the little girl. Seeing him with Charlotte reminded her of the way he'd fretted over Octavia the second day on the ground. If it had been Octavia, the sight would have made her smile. She didn't know this girl, though, and really had no desire to. Children made her uncomfortable, just as all other people did. From the corner of her eye, she noticed the apple she had dropped. It was covered in blood. The sigh made her stomach churn. Her hands had already dripped and smeared blood all over the cave, all over her. It was pooling beneath her, puddling up beneath her jeans and splashing inside of her boots. She felt Bellamy's anger pulsing in the new bruises on her biceps and it made the blood drip fast. Her vision began to go gray at the edges, the gray of the Ark overtaking the natural gray of the caves. Cheyenne sprang to her feet, shaking out her hands and wiping them on the front of her jeans. The noise in her head was too loud, buzzing and bouncing off the cave walls like a scream. Oblivious to the stares of her cave companions, she kept wiping her hands as she paced the far wall.

"Cheyenne?"

She didn't even look in his direction. Staring at her hands, she stopped walking and nearly ripped her sweatshirt pulling it off. Her bruises were muted in the low light of the cave. To Bellamy, it made them look worse. It was as if the darkness was reaching out to strangle what little light she had left in her. It was as if he was the darkness strangling the light that showed behind her eyes when she looked at him. He and Charlotte watched as she dumped the water from her pouch onto her hands before scrubbing at them with the sweat shirt. Her movements were getting rougher and rougher as was the rate of her breathing. Finally, she turned slightly, and he noticed the tears streaking down her face and the way her lips were mouthing something too quiet for him to hear.

"Cheyenne? Baby?" Bellamy tried again, this time moving toward her slowly.

"Get off," she whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear a foot away. "Get the fuck off me, please, stop." She was shaking and sobbing in earnest now.

When she dropped the sweatshirt to claw at her fingers and hands and forearms, Bellamy grabbed both of her hands in his own. The terror that had filled her eyes was exactly like the look she'd given him that day in the forest and when he'd yelled at her minutes before. It sent a sick thrill through him that something would be so scared of him, yet still trust him enough to let him touch her.

"Don't touch me!" Cheyenne jerked her hands away from him and backed into the corner of the cave, cowering down. "Don't touch me, please – I have to get the blood off."

"What blood, Cheyenne? Where is the blood?" Bellamy crouched low to the ground to be at her eye level. She'd gone back to scratching at her hands. "Baby, where is the blood?"

The snarl that came out of her seemed inhuman. "It's everywhere." Her face was contorted with hate and fear as she curled in on herself to cry. She finished in a whisper as her face pressed into her knees, "The blood is everywhere, it won't go away. It covers everything I touch."

Charlotte's small voice barely made it to Bellamy's ears from where she was sitting curled under his jacket. "Is that Cheyenne Barnes? The girl that killed all those people on Mecha Station?"

It was then that Bellamy realized exactly what was going on. He'd been seeing blood on his own hands from the moment he shot the Chancellor.

He crawled toward her, slowly but surely, before settling into the space beside her. One of his hands went to her back and the other wrapped around her knees to pull her into him. Her sobs didn't ease up once she was seated between his legs and her arms were wrapped around his chest, but it made him feel better now that he could stop her from hurting herself. The bruises decorating her body from his roughness seemed to mock his thoughts. Love bites trailed down either side of her throat and down her chest. Hand prints from him grabbing her in anger were already blooming on her biceps. A thick line in the shape of his hand was around her throat from where he'd choked her while he fucked her the night before. The fact that she was letting him touch her meant she'd already forgiven him, if she'd blamed him in the first place. Looking at how fragile and broken she was in his arms, however, made him wonder if he would ever forgive himself. It made him wonder if he even wanted to stop.


	6. Chapter 5

Day 6

Cheyenne finally cried herself to sleep. Her tears had soaked through his shirt, but he still held her with her head tucked into his neck. She didn't wake up when Charlotte cried out in her sleep, or when he moved them both to give a pep talk to the little girl. He had already fallen asleep again when she finally opened her red, puffy eyes. One glance at the hand gripping Bellamy's shirt and she knew what happened. Embarrassment flooded her at the thought of not one, but two people witnessing her having an episode. As if he'd felt her awareness, Bellamy's arms flexed around her as he woke up. She lifted her head to meet his eyes, aware that she looked like shit. Expecting judgment to be flooding his beautiful brown eyes, it almost scared her to see the expression on his face. He looked at her like he was seeing her all the way down to the center. His eyes cut through her layers until she was just a set of bones, wearing away before him. He could feel what she was feeling, he could see the blood on her hands and didn't recoil or run away. More tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks when she heard his voice ringing in her ears, asking if she was okay.

"Thank you," she whispered to the skin of his neck as she laid her head back down. He didn't answer, but she felt his arms get tighter around her.

They sat together until Charlotte woke up. Cheyenne sat next to the little girl until Bellamy had double checked the absence of the acid fog. Once out of the cave, Cheyenne pulled her sweatshirt on, but not before Charlotte could ask about the bruises. Cheyenne ignored her to follow Bellamy, not bothering to check if Charlotte was following. Creeping around the trees, she noticed the little girl trying to copy her movements to move silently over the ground.

"Lift your legs higher." From the corner of her eye, she watched as Charlotte did as she said. She was satisfied when the little girl was quieter.

Bellamy was standing with Jones and two others when she caught up. She made no move to touch him, as she never did in public, but stood just behind him with her eyes scanning the forest around them. Turning, she watched as Charlotte wandered slightly away while Bellamy and Jones were talking. When a scream echoed through the trees, Cheyenne jolted in place, wide eyes turning to Bellamy. His gaze locked with hers before he was running toward the scream with the other three in tow. Cheyenne followed obediently.

Jones, the other two, and Charlotte were already walking back toward camp by the time she'd come through the trees. Atom was on the ground, struggling to breathe. Clarke appeared from further away in the forest, looking to Bellamy and then to Cheyenne and then to Atom on the ground. Both girls moved forward, Clarke kneeling next to Atom's shoulder.

"I heard screams," Clarke said quietly. She placed her hand on Atom's chest, feeling the blood gurgling in his lungs.

"Charlotte found him." Bellamy forced himself to stop looking at Atom and met Clarke's eyes. "I sent her back to camp."

A few moments went by where no one spoke. Then Clarke was moving closer to Atom, whispering sweet nothings to him while she sang. It was when she grabbed the knife from Bellamy that Cheyenne came closer.

"Wait," she spoke up. Her face was haunted and intense when she stared hard at Clarke. "Let me. Neither of you should have something like this on your hands."

"Cheyenne, you don't have to –" Clarke's voice was cut off by Bellamy's hand on her forearm.

Cheyenne pulled the knife from a reluctant Clarke and nodded her head to the suffering boy on the ground. She resumed her quiet singing, while Cheyenne took a labored breath of her own. She could feel the heaviness that came from their stares when she stuck the knife into Atom's jugular before pulling it back out. When his body was still, she pulled herself to her feet and backed up. Her hands didn't shake and her chest didn't hurt. Every time she took a life, it got a little easier. Unable to take the weight of their stares anymore, she turned on her heel and disappeared through the trees to go back to camp.

The moon was high in the sky when Bellamy flung open the flap of his tent. Cheyenne had exchanged her clothes for one of his shirts and was waiting patiently on their bed. His face was strained with anger and pain and loss. She'd heard the small commotion at the gates, heard him yelling at Murphy. When he descended on her with heavy touches and rough kisses, she was waiting with open arms and hands covered in blood.

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Day 8

Clarke's wails of despair echoed throughout camp until dusk. She grieved from the safety of the top level of the dropship alone, at times crying and at times eerily silent. Finn dug Wells a grave, refusing help from anyone that offered, wanting to do this for Wells as Wells had done for the other members of the one hundred that had died. After checking on Jasper in Clarke's place, Cheyenne slipped back into Bellamy's tent without anyone seeing, prepared to spend the day in solitude. The fact that no one had noticed her coming and going from his tent morning and night for seven days now did not give her much hope at them fending off the grounders that had killed Wells. Shock had numbed her chest and drove out the small sliver of doubt that lingered with taking Atom's life the day before. Splotches of red dripping from her hands were ignored in favor of the nothingness that had taken hold of her heart and driven out all other things. It was a relief compared to the usual thoughts she had that bounced between wanting to die and wanting to slaughter everyone she looked at. It was a hard line to walk, especially with the demons in her mind scratching and clawing their way out.

"Baby, are you in there?" Bellamy asked, placing a hand on her shoulder. She sat up in surprise but didn't scream or flinch. "There you are. I think you were sleeping with your eyes open."

The joke didn't garner a laugh, but the smile that she got from him in return for her own made it worth the effort. "I didn't hear you come in."

"I've been stepping higher and putting my heel down first," he teased. She laughed in earnest at that, having forgotten way she'd patronized him and Murphy after following them into the woods. "See, I knew you could laugh."

Cheyenne rolled her eyes, but the smile lingered on her lips. "Thank you." When he looked confused, she elaborated. It was getting easier and easier for her to talk to him and Clarke by the day, something that confused her but made her feel better about herself than she ever had. "For the other night, in the caves. I would have ripped the skin off my hands had you not stopped me. And for everything else."

The shrug that Bellamy gave wasn't quite what she was expecting. "I know what you mean when you say you see the blood on your hands." He didn't explain, but she felt like she understood anyway. "I didn't realize who you were until Charlotte asked me."

Her eyes dropped to the ground. "Does that… does that change things?"

"No." When she glanced up at him, his eyes had fallen as well. "I hurt you. I'm sorry for that."

"Don't be. I think I like it." When their eyes met, she felt shame and embarrassment flood her like a wave. "Pain is all I've ever known. Anything different, I'm not sure I could accept it."

Even when she felt the urge to drop her eyes, she didn't. She needed him to know that she wasn't judging him, that she couldn't judge him because she was a thousand times more fucked up than he was. She liked it when he left bruises in the shape of his hands on her hips and thighs and throat. She liked it when bruises bloomed around the teeth prints he left on her neck and the way she felt like she wasn't going to be able to move the next day because of him. The pain let her keep him in a way that wouldn't go away, even when he wasn't right next to her. It reminded her of the man that kept her fed and warm in a tent on the ground and made her forget about the man on the Ark that ate her rations and made her sleep on the floor with no blanket. It made her remember the man that kept her for himself and helped her move on from the man that sold her to men she didn't know for morphine and moonshine.

"I don't want you to go outside the walls without me anymore." Bellamy's hand brushed her dirty hair away from her face and rested on the side of her neck. His touch was soft and she leaned into it without question. "The grounders killed Wells right under our noses, and I want you safe. Even if that means I have to tie us together and take you everywhere I go."

A smile pulled at her lips again. "If you did that, though, none of those other girls would be able to flirt with you anymore." Her smile grew when he rolled his eyes.

"None of those girls could give me what you do, Cheyenne. I hope you know that." His face grew more serious and his hand curled tightly into the hair at the nape of her neck. His eyes burned with jealousy when he refused to let her drop her head to look down. "You're mine, Cheyenne. No one else is going to touch you, and I'm going to give you the same in return."

She should have told him no. She should have pushed him away and told him to leave. She should have told him she wasn't a dog to be owned and bossed around and leashed up. Instead, she told him, "I'd let you carve your name into my skin to make me yours, if that's what you want, Bellamy."

The kiss that he pressed against her lips made it more than worth it.


	7. Chapter 6

Day 11

Lingering around camp meant helping the other delinquents, which meant talking to the other delinquents. Instead of doing that, Cheyenne stuck close to Clarke. She and Finn were a bit of a package deal, but that didn't bother Cheyenne too much. When Clarke moved to go help someone with a sprained ankle, she hung back with Finn near the door of the dropship.

"You want to go get some water?" he asked, peering over into the basin they'd been keeping water in before boiling.

She was unable to keep her eyes from zeroing in on where Bellamy was helping build the wall. There was no way she would be able to ask him if she could go with Finn without Finn realizing she needed permission to leave camp. The spacewalker was more observant than the rest of the delinquents and would clue in immediately to the probability that Bellamy gave her the bruises he and Clarke were so curious about.

So, she shook her head in the negative, dropped her eyes to the ground and slipped up to the third floor of the dropship where she could find some quiet. The sounds of camp didn't filter well up to the top floor, especially when the hatch was shut. When she wasn't slipping through the forest or helping Clarke, Cheyenne tried to find solitude comparable to the Skybox. While the dropship wasn't white and silent and cold, she still found herself able to breathe better isolated away. She didn't have to worry about staining the camp with her bloody hands or being touched by the other delinquents when they would walk too close to her or the noise of ninety-something other people becoming too much. Leaning back on the wall with the hatch closed, she could pretend that she was the only person on the Earth and that the sound of the stone sharpening her knife was the only sound in the universe.

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A banging on the hatch startled Cheyenne into dropping her knife. The sound of it clattering echoed in the empty space around her, but Bellamy's head poking up relieved any lingering anxiety.

"Can you not hear up here?" he snapped.

Cheyenne's shoulders curled in on themselves at the tone of his voice. "I come up here to make sure I can't hear. It reminds me of the Skybox." She couldn't read the face he made at her confession, but she wasn't going to lie to him.

"I need your help. Come on." Without another word, he was gone again.

Cheyenne swiped her knife from the floor and slipped down the dropship ladder. Bellamy was waiting for her on the bottom floor, already launching into an explanation before her feet even hit the floor. She kept pace with him as they crossed the camp, dipping into the tent where they held meetings. Octavia was standing there with Jasper, waiting with eager eyes. Cheyenne didn't acknowledge them. Instead, she crouched down to look at the dirt with fresh eyes.

"I still don't understand how you didn't hear all the screaming and yelling," Bellamy said, watching intently as Cheyenne tried to figure out which edge of the tent they'd slipped out of through the overlapping footprints.

"With the hatch closed, you can't hear anything." She glanced up at him and then to Octavia and Jasper before focusing back on the dirt. "I go there to be alone. There are too many people in this camp." She slipped through the edge of the tent, knowing Bellamy would follow. He'd made sure she felt his urgency when he'd said Murphy was trying to kill Charlotte.

"You're that girl from Mecha, aren't you?" Octavia finally burst out. It was as if she'd been holding it in for days. "You're the girl that killed three guards and two civilians."

"O, you can't just –"

"It's okay," Cheyenne interrupted. She knew how much Bellamy loved Octavia and didn't want to be the reason he was angry with her. "You can ask whatever you want, Octavia."

"Why? Five people died because of you." There was no shame in the way Octavia asked questions or the statements she made. Cheyenne admired that.

"Because they deserved it." She stopped walking to face the other female. Cheyenne met her eyes for the first time since they'd met, and Octavia was surprised to find them so empty and so green. "If you're going to ask me if I regret it, I don't think you'll like my answer."

"You and Jasper should stay back, just in case one of them comes back here," Bellamy said, stepping between the two girls. He knew that Cheyenne would sooner cut off her own arm than use it to hit his sister, but he wasn't so sure that Octavia wouldn't try to provoke her. "We'll move faster just us."

Taking this as a dismissal, Cheyenne picked the trail back up and began following it. She made no noise as she crept through the undergrowth. Octavia's eyes burned into her back, but she trusted Bellamy more than enough to turn her back if he was there.

"I don't think you should be alone with her, Bell. She's dangerous."

In a different situation, Bellamy wouldn't have been able to stop himself from laughing. "I'll be fine, O. I trust her."

Octavia and Jasper disappeared back into camp, and Bellamy followed Cheyenne into the forest. With the sun below the horizon, following Finn's trail was harder. He and Cheyenne were the only two that were graceful enough to slide through the foliage with little or no trail, leaving her only option to look for the disturbances that Clarke or Charlotte would have made. With Finn leading them, however, he could guide them around obvious signs of disruption. When a branch cracked up ahead, Cheyenne's hand reached back to grab onto Bellamy's shirt. She felt no fear in the forest where she blended in as if she belonged, but Bellamy was like a splash of color in a black and white photo – noticeable. Ignoring her warning, he shot forward and grabbed up Charlotte to stop her from screaming. The sound of Murphy stomping through the woods with his buddies filtered into her ears not long after Charlotte started yelling for him.

"Come on, this way!"

Cheyenne followed Bellamy blindly, even though she knew he probably had no idea where he was going. She was proved right when they came to the edge of a cliff with Murphy hot on their heels. Knife gripped tight in her hand, Cheyenne didn't cower when Murphy and three others burst into the small clearing. When a boy behind Murphy grew impatient with his and Bellamy's shouts, he shot forward to rush the older man. Cheyenne's foot swept his from beneath him, and her knife was pressed into the soft flesh of his throat as she sat on his chest. The others in the clearing watched her with bated breath and wide eyes, but she only had eyes for Bellamy. A subtle shake of his head had her backing off the boy's chest after snatching the knife in his pocket.

"I didn't realize you had a guard dog, Bellamy. How very king-ly of you," Murphy sneered. "Whatever you did to her that day in the woods must have been pretty effective, huh?"

The bite of Murphy's words only hurt Bellamy. Cheyenne had heard much worse than anything he could throw her way. Any reply Bellamy could have made was cut off by Clarke and Finn bursting out of the tree line behind him.

"Bellamy, stop! This has gone too far, just calm down. We'll talk about this." Clarke was very nearly begging as she stepped closer to Murphy and Bellamy.

"I'm sick of listening to you talk." Murphy was on her in a second, knife pressed to her throat.

The noises around her buzzed into silence as Cheyenne saw the fear coloring Clarke's face. She could feel the blood dripping from her fingers, staining her knife, making a puddle beneath her hand. When red began to drip from the knife in Murphy's hand, Cheyenne had no way to tell if it was real or not. Her breathing shortened into gasps as she watched Clarke's life drip down the front of her shirt, down Murphy's arm to drip off his elbow. Everything was a blur for a few seconds, but a few seconds was all it took for Charlotte to throw herself off the cliff and for Cheyenne to pounce on Murphy the second Clarke was out of the range of his knife. Her fist drove into his face, over and over, his arms pinned beneath his knees. The knife made of drop ship metal was curled into her hand to put weight behind each strike, but she didn't cut him. Clarke was still alive, and even though she wanted to kill John Murphy here on the dirty ground, she wouldn't because she didn't want Clarke and Bellamy to see her kill someone again.

"Stop her, Bellamy, she'll kill him!"

"He deserves to die!"

"No, we don't decide who lives and dies. Not down here."

The feeling of arms wrapping around her waist startled Cheyenne into awareness of her surroundings. Finn had dragged her off and away from Murphy, only for Bellamy to dangle him over the edge of the cliff. Everything he said was muffled by the sound of her pulse in her ears, but Cheyenne felt she got the gist of it. Shaking off Finn's arms, she pulled herself over to Clarke.

"Are you alright?" Cheyenne demanded. Touching Clarke for the second time ever, she grabbed the older girl's chin and lifted it to see her neck. Her fingers moved of their own accord to feel it, double and triple checking that Murphy slitting her throat had been a hallucination. "Clarke, did he hurt you?"

"I'm okay, I'm okay," Clarke reassured her again and again, grabbing both of the smaller girl's hands and pulling her into a hug. "I'm okay, I promise. Breathe, Cheyenne, breathe with me, okay?"

She didn't realize she was crying until her tears soaked into the shoulder of Clarke's shirt. "I saw him cut your throat, I saw blood spraying out of your neck, Clarke, you were dead, he killed you, I couldn't – I just –" She jerked out of Clarke's hold, ignoring the weight of Finn and Bellamy's stare on her. "I see blood on everything, all the time and I can't tell if it's real or not anymore." Every emotion she'd ever felt was bubbling up and out, in the form of tears and words and snot and trembling hands. "It was an accident, Clarke, I didn't mean to hurt him –"

Clarke shushed her and pulled her back into a hug, meeting Bellamy's eyes over her shoulder. "It's okay, Annie. We're going to help you, okay? You're okay."

Eventually, she could breathe again. Humiliation burned her skin when she pulled back from Clarke. The apology died on her lips when a different set of arms wound around her in a hug. Finn had grabbed her up the moment Clarke stepped away, hugging her tight to his chest.

"Thank you," he said quietly. "Thank you for defending her. Thank you for trying."

Once he was gone, Bellamy was there. Instead of hugging her, he pulled her up into his arms and started for the trees. Clarke followed, and then Finn. Before anyone was called together, Bellamy ducked into his tent to put Cheyenne on her feet. He pulled her into him as if he was trying to mold them into one person. His thank you wasn't voiced, but she felt it loud and clear as if he'd screamed it into her ears. They stayed like that as long as they dared while Clarke rounded up the other campers.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," Bellamy finally said, pulling away from her. Surprising them both, he kissed her softly on the lips and then on the head before slipping out of the tent.

Cheyenne's fingers pressed against her lips in awe. That was the first time he'd kissed her just to kiss her, without the intention of sex. That was the first act of affection she'd ever received without the giver expecting something in return. The thought brought a fresh round of tears to her eyes and butterflies in her stomach. Stripping off her jeans and replacing her shirt with one of his, she laid down to wait for him to come back. He surprised her again by stripping off his own dirty clothes and crawling into bed to hold her. Even after everything that happened on the edge of the cliff, even after the disaster that did happen and almost happened, Cheyenne Barnes, the murderer from Mecha Station, went to bed feeling loved for the first time ever by Bellamy Blake, Clarke Griffin, and Finn Collins.


	8. Chapter 7

Day 12

Light filtered through the parachute material of the tent, heating the small space quickly. While the nights were relatively cool, some of the days were unbearably hot after growing up on a chilly space station. At first, the heat had been a novelty. Ten days after arriving on the Earth in what felt like the middle of summer, the heat was miserable and stupid. Cheyenne was already sweating through her sweatshirt, even though it had to be the thinnest and least heat holding sweatshirt ever sewn.

Clarke hadn't been surprised to see Cheyenne sleeping in Bellamy's t-shit and in his bed when she and Finn barged into his tent just before sunrise. If Finn was, he hid it well. They turned their backs to let her dress as quickly as she could before telling her about the pod that had come down from the sky and Bellamy being missing. After her breakdown, she had practically gone into a coma she was sleeping so hard, so it wasn't too farfetched to think she missed him slipping out of their bed in the middle of the night. Now that she was dressed and awake, she was following Finn and Clarke into the woods toward the crash site. Finn followed the direction it had fallen in as far as he could before they all split up to search for the exact crash site. Instead of following their lead to go down either side of the hill they crested, Cheyenne went straight down. Her light footing kept her from crashing down the hill and practically into the pod itself. Not spotting Bellamy, she didn't bother to look in the pod. Instead, she followed the still messy grass back into the trees. It didn't take long for her to catch up with him bumbling through the woods, practically panicking with a radio clutched in his hand and his hatchet in the other.

"Bellamy, wait," she called quietly, slipping through a few thorny bushes without getting cut. The wrap he put on her busted knuckles the night before was already getting dirty and she had only been in the woods for an hour or two.

"Go home," he snapped as soon as he saw her. He sped up instead of slowing down, trying to leave her behind. She let the forest guide her, though, and was next to him in moments. "I said, go home, Cheyenne!"

The demand made her steps falter. Coming to a stop, she dropped her eyes to the ground and stood still, waiting for the violence that was supposed to follow that tone of voice. Bellamy had stopped as well, watching her wearily. Looking at her submissive posture and the bandage she was steadily bleeding through, he was unable to stay mad at her. He moved to brush her long hair back from her eyes but stopped when she flinched back.

"I'm sorry," she whispered through the thick air.

His voice was low and serious. "I'm not going to hit you, baby." He stepped forward and reached for her again, slower this time. She let him push her hair behind her ear and tilt her head up with his fingertips. "No matter how angry I am, or how loud I yell, I will never hit you."

"I trust you, Bellamy." Cheyenne brought her hand up to grab the one that was touching her chin to press it against her face. "Now, it's time for you to trust me. What do you need me to do? Clarke and Finn aren't far behind us, and they'll know I came after you instead of staying with the pod when I'm not there waiting on them."

She could see the fight in his eyes – whether to trust her or to tell her to go home again. It felt like forever passed in the forest around them as Bellamy held her eyes with his expressive brown ones. Her eyes had so much more life in them than they did the first time he looked at her. On the dropship, if it wasn't for the fear on her face, he'd have thought she was already dead just by looking at her eyes. Now, they held his gaze full of unwavering trust that had been thrust upon her by a chance seating on a trip to Earth and a crooked wristband that had to be removed sooner than later.

"I need to get rid of this radio. The Ark can't follow us down here, or I'm dead."

"Follow me."

Bellamy kept right up on her as they moved through the trees. She noticed that while he still disturbed a lot as he walked, he was taking her advice and paying more attention to his footing. He was quieter as they went but left a clear trail. They made it to the river quickly, and she watched while he tossed the device into the water. Without a word, they began to head back to camp. Sweat had soaked through her sweatshirt, leaving her feeling disgusting. They had no soap nor a real change of clothes for ten days and she had never felt nastier. Just as she'd been about to say something about it, a rustling came from farther away, along with the sound of Clarke's voice.

"Hey! Where is it?" she demanded, running up and grabbing onto Bellamy's arm.

"Hey, Princess, you taking a walk in the woods?" He stopped, turning to face her. Cheyenne stopped at his elbow, using her hands to lift her hair off her sweaty neck.

"They're getting ready to kill three hundred people up there to save oxygen. And I can guarantee you it won't be council members." The desperation in Clarke's voice caught Cheyenne's attention more than her actual words did. "It'll be working people, your people."

"Bellamy!" Finn burst through the trees, pushing the older man back with both hands. "Where's the radio?"

Cheyenne backed out of the way when Bellamy shot forward to shove back. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Another woman, one she had seen before on Mecha Station followed Finn closely. "Bellamy Blake? They're looking everywhere for you."

Cheyenne's eyebrows went up as she looked from person to person as the conversation went on. Having no idea what was actually happening, she was content not to chime in and get yelled at.

"Shut up," Bellamy snapped at the new face.

"Looking for him why?" Clarke asked, looking from Bellamy to Raven and then back to Bellamy.

"He shot Chancellor Jaha," Raven said.

Everyone's eyes snapped to Bellamy then, all of them zapped with surprise. Clarke was the first to recover. "That's why you took the wristbands. You needed everyone to think we're dead."

The three of them continued to verbally gang up on him until Bellamy tried to walk off. Already picking up her feet, Cheyenne came to a halt when Raven jumped between her and Bellamy. With a hand on her knife, she watched as Raven provoked him into slamming her against a tree. The sudden movement startled her but the glint of Raven's knife made her ignore it in favor of shoving herself into the tangle and pushing the point of her knife against the bottom of Raven's chin.

"Drop it," Cheyenne said flatly. "I'll only ask once."

Raven pulled her knife down at the same time Bellamy moved his hand away from her throat. With the hostile situation reduced, Bellamy grabbed Cheyenne's upper arm roughly and pulled her away.

"Jaha deserved to die, you all know that," he said over his shoulder.

Raven's voice crawled further under Cheyenne's skin every time she spoke. She hadn't even been introduced to her yet and already she had felt the need to pull her knife on the girl. The Earth really did change people, even people that had just arrived.

"Yeah, he's not my favorite person either, but he's not dead." This caused Bellamy to stop, and Cheyenne had to stop with him as he was still holding tightly to her arm. "You're a lousy shot."

The expression on his face was hard to read, teetering between relief and disbelief. His hand tightened on Cheyenne's arm before he let her go altogether. She didn't step away, trying to let him know without saying it out loud that she was still in his corner. Her eyes drifted to Raven, watching the other girl watch her with narrowed eyes. Glancing down at her arm once, Raven returned to helping Clarke battle against Bellamy. When they were finished, Cheyenne was the first one to start in the direction of camp. Every once in a while, she would glance back to make sure Bellamy was still close, even though she could tell by the sound of his footfalls where he was in the group. She could feel a stare burning in the back of her head. The hair on the back of her neck stood up and a cold sweat broke out on her forehead, mixing with the sweat that was already there. By the time they crested the hill, she was soaked and panting with exertion. She felt Clarke move up beside her before she spoke.

"Slow down a little, Cheyenne. You're going to get heat stroke if you keep it up." The pressure of Clarke's hand on her arm made her stop walking. "Just take a second, okay?"

The rest of the group had paused just behind them, Raven shifting on her feet impatiently. Cheyenne ignored them and stayed focused on Clarke.

"You can take off your sweatshirt," Clarke said quietly, stepping closer to the younger girl to be heard. "None of us will judge you, I promise."

Cheyenne snorted at that. "You might not." Her eyes dropped from Clarke's to the ground, wondering if it was worth it to get heat stroke so she wouldn't have to be around Raven anymore.

Clarke seemed to know what she was saying without needing her to say it. "You need to take it off. We have no clean water with us and we're all dehydrated and exhausted from everything that happened yesterday." Her face was earnest with concern. "You don't have anything to be ashamed of, Annie."

"Yeah, right," Cheyenne mumbled under her breath.

She knew Clarke heard her but tried not to acknowledge it. Realistically, she knew how unreasonable she was being because if Raven wasn't there, she would have already taken her sweatshirt off. Clarke and Finn had already seen the way her body was marked by Bellamy's hands. Knowing that Clarke wouldn't give up until she got her way, Cheyenne went ahead and pulled the sweatshirt off over her head and wound her long, dark hair up into a bun with a piece of fabric she had tied around her wrist for this specific reason. She didn't miss the sharp inhale from Raven behind her at the sight of her bruises nor the look of shame that doubled where it already sat on Bellamy's face. Instead of waiting any longer, she took off past Clarke. Clarke's own scorn burned in her chest toward Raven, though she knew it was Finn's fault she was hurting in the first place. Even so, she didn't want Cheyenne to face someone's judgment alone, not after what she had done in defense of her the night before. Quickening her pace to match the other girl, it was Clarke's turn to grab Cheyenne's hand with trust. She laced their fingers together to walk by her side.


	9. Chapter 8

Day 12 (Continued)

Back at camp and tucked inside her smelly sweatshirt again, Cheyenne grabbed a few water skins to fill for them to head back to the river. She turned around and nearly slammed into Raven who was standing too close behind her. The older girl's stare was hard and angry as she watched Cheyenne's shoulders fold in and her eyes drop to the ground.

"Who the hell hurts you?" Raven demanded.

Ignoring her, Cheyenne's grip tightened on the water skins. She made a beeline for where she could see Clarke and Bellamy standing near the gate.

"Hey! I'm talking to you."

With pursed lips, Cheyenne straightened up to look Raven in the eye. "Mind your own fucking business," she snapped, stepping close enough to get in the taller woman's face. "And shut your mouth."

With nothing left to say, she spun on her heel to continue her way to Bellamy and Clarke. Bellamy's glare stayed on Raven over her head as she handed him and Clarke each a water.

"What was that about?" he asked lowly. His voice was a quiet rumble in her ear, too quiet for anyone else to hear.

"It was nothing." She tried to sidestep him with her eyes and head down, but he stood in her way too quickly.

"That's not what I asked you."

She looked up at him, his eyes hard but not angry. "She asked who was hurting me."

Guilt made his face change slightly, pulling the corners of his mouth down and his eyes to lose their glow. It made her wish she could take back the words, make up something else to say. Before he could say anything, Raven herself slammed her way into the group of people standing near the gate. They all set off toward the river. Cheyenne separated herself from the group to walk on her own as she was apt to do when with more than one person, spending her time treating the forest as an equal. When a splash of red caught her eye, she stopped abruptly and sucked in a breath. A red slash was across the trunk of a tree, dripping like Clarke's throat. Whether she had a sixth sense or not, Cheyenne was glad for whatever it was that kept her on Clarke's radar.

"What's wrong?" she asked softly. "Do you see…" her question trailed off when Cheyenne's hand moved to point at nothing against the trunk of a tree. "How often does this happen?"

She felt Bellamy without needing to see him. His large hand found a home on her hip, soothing her without words. "All the time," Cheyenne whispered. "Usually just on my hands or things that I touch."

"Has it been getting worse?" Clarke waited patiently for her to answer.

"No." Cheyenne's shaking hand dropped to cover Bellamy's. "I just didn't know how bad it was until I found relief."

Clarke nodded and motioned to Bellamy with her head. "I'm going to catch up with the group. Be careful, okay? Yell for me if you see anymore."

Bellamy stepped closer to Cheyenne, pulling her around to face him. One of his hands moved into her now loose hair while the other stayed at her hip. Tilting her head up, he met her eyes, recognizing the vacant look in them. "Hey, come back to me. It's not real, baby."

She focused back on him and stepped forward, her hands coming up to rest on his chest. After a few deep breaths, she squared herself and nodded. His smile was strained from stress, but it was real. His lips found hers, soft and slow before they separated from one another to catch up with the group. Cheyenne found herself pressing her fingers to her lips again, those damn butterflies back in her stomach.

The radio was found but soaked through. While everyone else was scrambling around to help build the rockets, she ducked into the tent she shared with Bellamy to have a second to herself. Though she had tried to act unaffected, Raven's reaction to her body had bothered her a lot. Hallucinations she could deal with, she had been dealing with them since she shoved a pair of scissors into the base of Anthony Band's skull. She was talking to Clarke now because she was finally ready to deal with it. Raven's judgment, however, was not something she ever wanted or needed. Everything about the other woman seemed to crawl under her skin like a nest full of angry hornets. What was supposed to be a few minutes of solitude turned into a few hours of stewing in irrational anger. When Clarke joined her after the rockets were mostly assembled, Cheyenne scooted over to give her room to lay down next to her.

"Raven and Finn are together."

Cheyenne's mouth fell open as her eyebrows hit her hairline. "What?" Clarke didn't have to repeat herself for Cheyenne to know what she said. "Well, in that case, I'll just hate them both."

Clarke let out a sad laugh, wondering where she went wrong and why she didn't realize sooner. "It's not her fault he didn't tell me."

"That's not why I hate her." Cheyenne struggled to find the words to communicate what she was feeling. "She's been on Earth for a day and thinks she knows what this place is like. She thinks she understands but she doesn't understand anything."

"Do we even understand anything?" Clarke's head turned to face Cheyenne. "I mean, we've been here for twelve days and we've already gone from one hundred and one of us to ninety-four."

"We're doing better than the Ark." Cynicism was dripping in her voice. "We've been gone for ten days and they've already lost three hundred if these rockets don't work. That's not counting whoever they've floated between then and now or us."

"He killed three hundred people, Annie," Clarke finally ground out after a moment of silence.

Cheyenne shook her head. "No, he didn't. The council was going to kill those people either way. He was just saving himself." She knew Clarke would never agree, but she didn't really have to. "I've killed six now, including Atom. But you're still laying here next to me."

Neither of them said anything else, but Cheyenne's hand found Clarke's to hold until Bellamy found them a little while later.

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Cheyenne dropped back down from the third floor of the dropship, landing next to Bellamy and Clarke. A shake of her head let them know that Octavia was nowhere on the third or second story. Bellamy immediately stalked off, calling for everyone still awake to grab weapons and gather around. Clarke went to talk to Jasper, who was grabbing a spear, but Cheyenne stayed at the mouth of the dropship trying to think of places to look for Octavia. Nothing was coming to mind, though, since the last time she had seen Octavia had been when she was tracking Charlotte for Bellamy. Even though that felt like days ago, it had only been barely twenty-four hours.

Bellamy approached her quickly, trying not to draw attention to himself. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Wait here, and if she comes back, bring Clarke and Miller with you to find me."

Her eyebrows furrowed together as she looked up at him. "I'm not coming with you?" Hurt was clear in her voice, but she tried to keep her expression guarded. The closer she got to him and Clarke, the harder it was to shield her emotions from them.

"It's too dangerous. I don't want you to get hurt. If something happens and I can't find her…" Bellamy's face tightened up at the thought. His voice hardened in response. "Stay here. Wait for me to come back."

Nodding without argument, she tried not to think about her waiting forever for him not to come back. "Be careful."

Several expressions of awe drew their attention to the group of delinquents gathered around the weapons. They were all looking up at the sky, some pointing and others oohing at the pretty lights. A dark feeling settled in the pit of Cheyenne's gut, causing her to reach blindly for Bellamy's hand. Something that beautiful could only be because of death. That was a funeral for the people in the culling.

"They didn't work." Raven's voice rang out over the crowd, immediately making Cheyenne squeeze Bellamy's hand and bristle. "They didn't see the flares."

"A meteor shower tells you that?" Bellamy asked sourly. He frowned down at the other woman.

"It's not a meteor shower, it's a funeral. Hundreds of bodies being returned to the Earth from the Ark," Clarke spoke out to explain. "This is what it looks like from the other side. They didn't get our message."

When Raven launched herself at Bellamy yelling, Cheyenne was already ready for it. She pushed her way into Raven's face and shoved the taller girl back by her shoulders, keeping her back until Finn and Clarke grabbed her arms. Once she was restrained, Cheyenne backed down again to Bellamy's side.

"All I know is that my sister is out there, and I'm going to find her." Bellamy turned to Finn. "You coming or what?" At Finn's nod, he raised his torch slightly. "Alright, then what are we waiting for? Move out!"

Cheyenne backed up next to Clarke, watching as Bellamy led the others through the gate. Worry settled like a pit in her stomach, the unfamiliar feeling making her want to puke. Never in her life had she worried about someone other than herself, not until she met Bellamy and Clarke.

"We have to talk to them. Three hundred won't be enough, the oxygen level with just keep dropping," Clarke said at her side. "If we don't tell them that they can survive down here, they're going to kill more people."

Jasper urged Finn to leave while Finn took his sweet time saying goodbye to Raven. Either the distaste on her face was visible or Clarke was more hurt than she let on because Cheyenne felt the older girl grabbing her arm. Whether it was meant to comfort one or both, it did the trick. Raven or Finn must have said something important because a moment later, Clarke was surging forward to suggest an art supply store. Finn and Raven kissed goodbye before Clarke was leading them away from the gate. Cheyenne followed blindly, caught up in her worry about Bellamy, but knowing she couldn't leave her and Raven alone to wander in the dark. Just because she couldn't be useful to him at the moment, didn't mean she couldn't do something worthwhile.


	10. Chapter 9

Day 13

Even though tired was creeping into her bones, Cheyenne kept pace with Clarke and Raven but made no effort to participate or pay attention to their conversation. She was there to be moral support for Clarke and to try to take her mind off the fact that Bellamy was out looking for Octavia with Finn, and neither of them was safe. Something she couldn't get off her mind, though, was the way her clothes were beginning to smell. She knew she wasn't the only one judging by some of the shady smells around camp, but it was getting bad enough to bother her. Her hair was greasy and dirty due to not having shampoo, but she was at least able to wash it out and her body off down in the creek. Without an extra set of clothes, though, she had to be naked the entire time she was washing them and there was no way she was getting naked in the woods so a grounder could kill her.

Caught up in her thoughts, Cheyenne almost fell in the hatch Clarke had opened. Instead of following them down, she sat on the edge to wait with her feet dangling in. She could hear them talking and moving things around for a few minutes before they were coming out again. Moving out of the way, the pit in her stomach grew.

"They'll be okay," Clarke said, seeing the look on her face.

Sharp teeth dug into her bottom lip. "I trust you. If you say they'll be back, then they will."

The walk back to the dropship was silent, aside from Raven clumsily walking on the forest floor. Some of the people that had left with Bellamy were back in camp, but Cheyenne wasn't comfortable interrogating them for information, especially on the whereabouts of the man she was sleeping with. The thought that it was just sex to him made her chest ache and her heart thump into her throat. Instead of staying with Raven to fix the radio or following Clarke around, she slipped into her and Bellamy's tent to lay down. Her nap was riddled with nightmares that had her thrashing against the bed. Sucking in a heavy breath, she gasped for air as she tried to block out the mental image of Bellamy with a pair of scissors in his head, lying dead on the floor back on the Ark. She could still feel hands of Guardsman Anthony Band grabbing and pushing and touching in places they didn't belong.

The panic attack creeping up her throat was silenced by the sound of Bellamy's voice bellowing out Clarke's name across the camp. Rushing out of the tent, Cheyenne immediately saw them. Bellamy was cradling Finn's limp body in his arms and a knife was sticking out of Finn's chest. Time stopped, even as they carried Finn away to the dropship and Bellamy and Octavia argued viciously by the gate. She felt frozen in place. She had never had someone she cared about die. She had never had someone she cared about close to death. She had never had someone she cared about. All of a sudden, Bellamy was in her face, talking and grabbing her arms and motioning to the tent behind her, but she couldn't hear him over the noises in her head. She could still hear Johnston Ridley screaming in her head as she gutted him like a pig in front of his father. She could still hear the bang of the gunshot that tore Brandon Hardey's brain out of his head and splattered it on the wall. Cheyenne was snapped out of her thoughts when Bellamy's hands grabbed her tighter than he ever had and shook her roughly.

"Cheyenne, look at me!" he was yelling at her, he had been yelling at her. The noise of the storm was building in the air, and the noise in her head had blocked it all out. Finally, she looked him in the eye, her bottom lip trembling as she tried not to cry. "There you are, just keep looking at me, baby, you're okay."

Raindrops hit her face before the tears did, but she kept looking at him, just like he said. When he asked if she was listening, she made sure to nod her head.

"Go to our tent and get our clothes and blankets. Take them to the top of the dropship. We're going to have to stay in there until this storm is over. Okay?"

"Okay."

The word was choked out, but it was out. Then his lips met hers for a brief second, in front of a camp full of people paying no attention, and then he was walking away again, shouting at someone else. Shaking her head, she tried to snap herself out of it. There would be time for her nightmares later.

Clothes got tossed onto the bed, and the map on the table was folded up to put in her pocket. Starting from the bottom of their bed, she grabbed the entire bundle of materials and rolled it. Once it was in a bedroll form, she tied it up with one of the seatbelts and fitted it around herself like the backpacks they had made. Sure, it would look kind of stupid, but it would be effective when climbing the ladder. Her knife was tucked into a belt loop and the other knife laying on the table was stashed in her back pocket. Emerging from the tent, she saw everyone else doing the same thing she was. People were pulling tents down as soon as they were cleaned out, hoping to salvage the parachute material for once the storm was over. The wind had already picked up heavily. People were milling about the dropship, some being helpful, but most were useless, throughout the first and second levels. Luck was on her side, though when the third floor was empty. She sat the bedroll beside her and settled in to wait on Bellamy.

The storm was the worst they had seen since coming to Earth. Cheyenne shut the hatch to the top level to ward off people before finding Clarke standing at the dropship door, looking out into the weather while Raven fixed the radio. The rain was too heavy to see and the thunder shook the very ground beneath them. The rain didn't scare her. But the blood steadily running from her hand did. It was on everything. It had been all day. Anything she touched was soaked in blood. When she would turn too fast, the blood would splash from her hands and onto the walls. Every time she would glance out the door of the dropship to look for Bellamy, she would hear the steady running water noise of the blood dripping into puddles by her feet. Every glance at the knife in Finn's chest made her see Johnston Ridley's ribs with a knife stuck in them. She couldn't tell if the blood that dripped from Finn's side was real or not and she was too terrified to ask. Eventually, it was too much and she retreated to the top level to drown in her demons alone.

When the hatch slammed open, Cheyenne didn't react. She was tucked into the corner, leaning against the softness of the bedroll. It was expected that the two lower levels would get overcrowded eventually. However, when a man was tossed up through the hatch followed by Miller and Drew, she sat up. Bellamy was the next one through the hatch, barking orders while Miller and Drew tied up the unconscious man to the wall. She stared in shock when Octavia appeared through the hatch, defending the man that was now awake and angry. They argued viciously again before Bellamy made her leave.

It was quiet for a moment, tenseness thick in the air before she spoke. "Bellamy?"

The man in question jerked around quicker than she'd ever seen him move. "Miller, Drew, get out!" They were hardly down the hatch, shutting it behind them when Bellamy's hands gripped the sleeves of her sweatshirt and dragged her to her feet. "What the hell are you doing up here?"

"You told me to bring our stuff up here," she answered, her voice trembling. Fear made her shake under his hands where he had her cornered against the wall.

His own body was trembling with anger and adrenaline. With no outlet, he was starting to crack under the pressure. He'd had no sleep since the night after Wells was killed, and there didn't seem to be any in his near future. His fist met the wall twice before he realized he'd dented the wall way too close to her head. Shaking out his hand, he backed up, shame in his eyes when he saw the tears fall down her face. When he walked back toward her, he saw the effort she exerted not to flinch away from his hands.

"I'm so sorry, baby, I –" Bellamy's voice cracked and his hands framed her face as gently as he could make them. His thumbs brushed away her tears. "Please, forgive me, Cheyenne. I'm so sorry."

Her small hands came up to cover his. "There's nothing to forgive," she whispered. "I'm yours, remember? Whatever you want."

Vomit crept up his throat when she went silent again. "No, no, not whatever I want. It's whatever we want, baby. You give me too much power if it's just whatever I want." He pressed his forehead against hers, his hands creeping back to tangle in her hair.

"I trust you, Bellamy. I told you, remember? You could carve your name into my skin. You can squeeze my skin until it's purple in the shape of your hands. You can say whatever you want, do whatever you want, as long as it's you." Cheyenne's hands left his, to grab at his shirt. "I've never cared about someone before. I don't know what to do. You have to teach me how."

He kissed her then, hard and angry, but his hands were careful when they pulled her into him and grabbed onto her hips. She was small and fragile beneath him, and he should have been careful with her from the start. Bellamy pulled away, apologizing again and tugging her into his chest. When he stomped twice on the floor, Miller popped back up immediately. Surprise colored his face when he saw Bellamy holding a still shaking Cheyenne to his chest.

"Is she alright, man?" he asked, moving up into the room.

Bellamy nodded, not bothering to tell him more than that. It was none of his business. He didn't resist when Cheyenne's head pulled back to look at the grounder.

"What is this?" she asked. Her voice was hoarse from crying, but Bellamy decided right then that he'd never heard a more beautiful sound. "Who is that?"

"He had Octavia." Pushing her away from him, he looked her in the eye. "You should go downstairs with Clarke. I don't want you to see this."

Nodding complacently, Cheyenne moved to pull away. She stopped before she reached the ladder to look at the grounder and then back at Bellamy. She grimaced, fiddling with the strings on her crappy sweatshirt. "When you want information instead of a breathing punching bag, let me know. Beating them half to death doesn't actually work. You have to make it hurt."

Miller's eyebrows went up at the indifference with which she spoke of torturing someone. Bellamy felt like he should have expected that, knowing what her crime was rumored to be and the fact that she had admitted to not regretting killing five people to Octavia. He watched her disappear down the hatch, wondering if she'd said that on purpose just to turn him on.


	11. Chapter 10

Day 13 (Continued)

The dropship shook violently in the storm, nearly tossing Cheyenne off the ladder before she could reach the bottom floor. A crash sounded from below, sending a surge of panic into her chest. Dropping through the floor, she tried to survey the damage.

"Clarke, are you okay?" Cheyenne demanded, sprinting to where the older girl sat on the floor with a knife in her hand. "Is that the knife that was in Finn?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good," Clarke answered breathlessly. "I just, uh – I need to stitch him up."

"You did good, Clarke," a voice over the speaker said.

"Is… is that the Ark?" Cheyenne asked wearily. She made a face when Clarke said yes.

Doing a double take, the older girl stared from where she was stitching Finn's skin back together. "Have you been crying, Cheyenne?"

Put on the spot, Cheyenne froze. "Uh, no?" Her answer was more of a question than a statement, though she knew she couldn't lie to Clarke. Clarke knew exactly what her face looked like after she had been crying. Her eyes were red and puffy and her skin got blotchy on her cheeks.

"Did he… are you hurt?" She tried to phrase the question differently in a way that wouldn't upset her, but would still get her a real answer. Though she had promised not to judge Cheyenne and Bellamy for what they did in the privacy of their own tent, it was hard to look at the girl she considered her best friend and not see the shapes of Bellamy's hands all over her.

"No." Cheyenne's answer was firm this time, despite her stuffy nose and slightly hoarse voice. "No, I'm not hurt." She saw Raven scowl from where she stood near Finn's head, and for some reason, she felt like this was the icing on the cake. "Is there something you want to say, Raven? Is there some more of my personal business that you'd like to stick your nose into?"

"Personal business," Raven snorted. "It's your personal business when Clarke has to beg you take off your sweatshirt before you overheat, right? But you don't want to because of the bruises. Is it still your personal business when she has to ask you if you're hurt when you come back from being away from her?"

Alarm flashed in Clarke's eyes as things began to escalate quickly out of control. "Guys, maybe we shouldn't –"

"Oh, so you want to start some shit, huh? How about we talk about your personal business. Maybe we should bring up how desperate you have to be to steal an escape pod to come down to Earth to be with a boy that didn't even tell anyone about you?" Cheyenne's eyes were cold and empty. Raven stared back, hate bubbling in her head in the form of tears. "How's that for some personal business?"

Clarke barely had a second to get between them when Raven lunged across the room at Cheyenne. Screaming Bellamy's name up the ladder, she tried to keep Raven's arms at bay while keeping Cheyenne from getting in her face. Both girls were yelling at one another angrily, tears coming from both. Bellamy dropped down the ladder a few seconds later.

"What the hell is going on down here?" He pushed Cheyenne behind him, though he wasn't sure she really needed his protection from anyone but himself. "Raven, stop! Don't you think Finn is more important?" When Raven seemed to stop and go back to Finn, he turned on Cheyenne. "Go, now."

With a glance at Clarke that told the other girl how sorry she was, Cheyenne disappeared back up the ladder. The entire dropship was quiet enough to hear a pin drop for nearly five seconds. Then the thunder rumbled angrily, jolting everyone out of their stupor. No one expected quiet, anti-social, loner Cheyenne to pick a fight with the new girl from the Ark. Bellamy followed her up the ladder after getting verbal confirmation that Finn was doing as well as could be. The radio crackled back to life with Dr. Griffin's voice.

"Clarke, is everything okay?" she asked.

"Everything is fine, Mom."

Once at the top of the ladder, Bellamy closed the hatch back behind him again. His finger pointed to the corner with their stuff. "Sit. Don't talk."

Cheyenne did as she was told, curling in on herself as she leaned on the bed roll. It was like a haze came over her while she watched Bellamy hit the grounder over and over again. This time, she knew the red on his skin was real. It seemed like both an eternity and no time at all had passed by the Clarke came through the hatch in the floor. Pulling herself to her feet, she approached wearily, wondering if Bellamy would be mad that she'd moved from where he put her.

"How is Finn?"

"He's… better. The hard part is over. Now, we just wait to see if the fever goes down or if he…" Clarke didn't finish her sentence. She didn't need to. Rolling her shoulders, she shook it off. "What about you? That was some pretty vicious stuff down there."

Cheyenne snorted, anger bubbling up again at just the mention of the girl downstairs. "She started it."

Bellamy's hand grabbed her at the elbow, getting her attention immediately. "And I'm ending it. No more fighting with Raven."

Eyes on the ground, she nodded. He released her and sat on a crate nearby. When the blood on Bellamy's hand dripped down endlessly to mix with the blood at the grounder's feet, Cheyenne spared a moment to think that maybe she really was crazy. Raven screamed for Clarke from the first level and the moment was over. Grabbing a small tin of moonshine mixed with water and a cloth, Cheyenne sat on the crate next to Bellamy. His hand made her knee look tiny. She took her time washing off the crusted blood around his knuckles, hoping that she wasn't wiping at blood that wasn't there once she was done with the broken flesh. His other hand came up to push her hair behind her ear.

"You can't fight with Raven anymore. The Ark will be coming down soon, and everything will be different," he said quietly. She looked up at him, green eyes shining with emotion. Something stirred in his chest because he put that there. He ignited feelings in her broken mind. "I don't want you to get locked up again."

"You don't actually think they're going to pardon me, do you?" she asked rhetorically. Shaking her head, she reveled in the injustice of it all. "They don't care that I had a reason for killing those people. All they see is a murderer."

"Why did you kill those people?"

Glancing at Miller seated in the corner looking way too casual to not be listening, she chose not to answer. Bellamy understood, though, that she would tell him if they ever got some alone time. Instead, she wrapped his hand with a clean piece of cloth, tying it off at his palm. She didn't even have time to move before Clarke was slamming through the hatch with a knife in her hand.

"What's on this?" Clarke demanded, getting up in the grounder's face.

"What are you talking about?" Bellamy came up behind Clarke, only to take a step back when she whipped around with the knife in her hand.

"He poisoned the blade." Turning back to the grounder, Clarke dropped the knife and kicked it behind her. "All this time, you knew Finn was going to die no matter what we did."

When the grounder didn't talk, Cheyenne didn't linger. The desperation on Clarke's face made it clear how urgent it was to get him talking. She heard them rustling around a bag, but paid them no mind. Using her knife, she cut off a seatbelt buckle and a length of the strap. She carefully cut away the fabric that was around the buckle to cushion it before pushing past Octavia and Miller.

"Here, use this." Cheyenne gave the imitation whip to Bellamy. "I would do it, but I don't think I'm strong enough to get a good swing."

Everyone stared at her, including the grounder. Her little regard for human life had shocked those on the Ark, including the man who made her that way, but on Earth, she knew there was no room to sit to the side and let someone die when she could potentially help save them. Finn was her ally, and he was someone Clarke cared about. Even if they judged her for advocating torture, Cheyenne would still speak up to help. Bellamy didn't question her. He pushed Clarke's shoulder to get her to move before diving right in. Cheyenne stood next to her, holding out her arm in front of Octavia when she tried to run forward again to keep her out of the way. Raven came up the hatch next, shoving past everyone. Though she bristled at her close quarters with the other girl, Cheyenne forced herself not to react. Bellamy had enough on his plate without needing to keep an eye out for her, too.

"What's taking so long? He stopped breathing," Raven said, eyeing the grounder with hate in her eyes.

"What?" Clarke's distress grew tenfold.

"He started again, but next time he might not." Raven walked closer to the grounder.

"Is anyone down there with him?" Cheyenne asked, her voice quiet in all the commotion and she wondered if anyone would hear.

Clarke heard her, however, as Clarke always heard her, even when she didn't speak. "No, Raven and I were the only ones down there."

"I'll go sit with him. If he gets any worse, I'll let you know." Cheyenne was halfway to the hatch when Clarke stopped her with a hug. She hugged back, squeezing her as tightly as her small arms could, knowing she needed it.

"If he starts to vomit, turn him on his side."

Cheyenne booked it down the ladder, past the other people crowded together on the second floor without a glance. As soon as she was past, Octavia was back on the ladder upwards, taking her place in the room even after being forcibly removed moments before.

Finn was sweaty and pale, looking fragile for the first time since she'd met him. Moving closer, she went to brush his hair away from his face before she thought better of it. He was her friend but he wasn't Bellamy and he wasn't Clarke, and she didn't know how comfortable she would be touching him. It seemed like a lifetime ago that he'd pulled her away from beating Murphy to death and then hugged her for going to bat for Clarke's life. The phrase "hindsight is 20/20" came to mind when she remembered the day he'd asked her to go get water with him. She should've gone. Maybe if she'd have spent time with him that day instead of hiding away in the dropship, she could brush his hair away from his forehead in comfort. When a foamy substance started to gather in his mouth, Cheyenne pushed away her uneasiness to turn him on his side. He was heavier than he looked, but she managed, using a cloth to wipe away the vomit that stained his cheek. Not long after she placed him on his back again, Clarke and Raven were down the ladder with a vial of liquid in hand. Cheyenne stepped back out of the way immediately, watching until someone opened the door of the dropship. As soon as possible, she was out the door and into the forest. She'd been around too many people for too long.


	12. Chapter 11

Day 13 (Continued)

Bellamy found her sitting by the graveyard. Mud was splashed all over her, but she either didn't notice or didn't care. She looked beautiful sitting back against the tree trunk, her head tilted back and her eyes on the canopy of leaves above her. Water would drip from the leaves and onto her face, leaving streaks that looked like tears. His initial anger at her being outside of the wall faded away as he watched her. Cheyenne belonged on the ground, there was no doubt about it. The Ark was never her home.

"Do I need to dig a grave for Finn?" she asked, breaking the still silence.

"No, Clarke says he's going to be fine."

Cheyenne could hear the strain in Bellamy's voice. He had crossed a line when he tortured that grounder for Finn. He'd given away a piece of himself that he would never get back. Selfishly, she was glad. He couldn't look at her as broken if he was coming apart at the seams, too.

"I should have done it for you." Cheyenne's head moved to where she was looking at him instead of the sky above. Now that he could see her face clearly, it was obvious that the streaks that colored her face were tears and not water like he originally thought. "Doing that isn't something you can take back, Bellamy. It's not something you should have to bear when I'm already doing it. It should have been me."

"No." He came closer to her, crouching down to box her in against the tree. "No, you don't get to carry all the heavy stuff. This was my burden, just like Atom was. But I was too selfish to do it. I let you and Clarke take that burden from me, and now it's on you and her and it shouldn't be."

Small fingers brushed his cheek, smearing the blood that was ever present in her eyes. He was beautiful covered in blood, covered in shame, covered in nothing. He was light and she was dark and he chased away her demons with his gorgeous brown eyes and calloused fingers and harsh kisses. The tears welled again in her eyes even though she thought she was cried out.

"You're too good, Bellamy. I'm just going to bring you down. People like me don't get happy endings."

"I don't want a happy ending. I want you." He tilted her head up from where it had dropped to her chest. Her tears were just as beautiful as her fear and her anger and her emptiness. "You're mine, remember? Whatever I want."

"Whatever you want," she echoed.

She followed him back to their newly erected tent, unable to bring herself to care if people saw them together anymore. Before, she wanted privacy. She didn't want people to think the worst of him when they inevitably saw her bruises under her sweatshirt. But now, she just wanted him and to show Raven Reyes that she was not ashamed. He'd laid down a sheet of metal for a floor and fashioned a cot so that they were no longer sleeping on the ground. The table was back, too, and their bed already made. A small pile of clothes was at the foot of the bed, clean jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt and clean socks and underwear. One of his jackets was tossed next to it.

"Those are for you," Bellamy said, motioning toward the clothes. "They were stashed in Roma's tent. She doesn't need them now that she's…"

"Dead – she died when you guys went after Octavia, didn't she? Her and Mbege and Diggs?" Cheyenne watched as he nodded, distress clear on his face. "I know you were close to them. I'm sorry."

She couldn't give much sentiment other than that, and he knew it. He didn't ask for it, either. Pointing to a bucket next to the table, Bellamy told her it was boiled and hopefully still kind of warm for her to wash off the grossness. Hot water or cold water didn't really bother Cheyenne. All the showers in the Skybox were cold.

Sitting on the bed, he watched as she stripped off her old, muddy clothes. They were stained with blood and dirt and sweat. Her bruises had all faded to yellow and green over the course of the last three days, all but a few stubborn ones that held a bit of gray and the new ones on her arms from where he had grabbed her to snap her out of her stupor before the storm. The newest ones were the worst, such a deep purple that they were nearly black and in the perfect shape of his fingers. A terrible mixture of disgust and pride filled Bellamy at the sight of them. When she had said he could carve his name into her skin, he wasn't sure this was what she meant. The new jeans were not skinny jeans, but they would work until she could wash hers. Clean undergarments were relished in, as they were extremely rare around the camp seeing as they were sent with mostly the clothes on their backs and that was it. Before putting on the new shirt, Cheyenne flipped her hair over and shoved her entire head in the bucket of water, scrubbing as hard as she could at the greasy strands. She was under there long enough to worry him, but finally, she came up and squeezed as much of the water out as she could.

When Bellamy's hands came to rest on her hips, she leaned back against him. He ignored her wet hair as one of his hands trailed up her stomach, between her breasts, to grab her throat. His grip was tight, but not tight enough to bruise her again. Cheyenne's mouth released an encouraging noise when he kissed from the bottom of her ear to her collarbone, with his free hand sliding down the front of her jeans.

"Who do you belong to, Cheyenne?" his voice growled against her flesh. Goosebumps rose on her arms and the back of her neck.

"You, Bellamy," she answered breathlessly. "I belong to you."

The bed was more comfortable off the ground. He was gentle when he stripped her of the rest of her clothes, gentle when he wrapped her legs around his hips, gentle when he pressed inside of her, gentle when he wrapped his fingers around her neck. His touch lit a fire in her veins so hot she felt like she could melt. She couldn't help it when his name left her lips in a cry, or when her nails dug deep into the muscles of his back. With her head thrown back and her eyes clenched shut, she only saw him. Only his hands touched her. Only his mouth tasted her skin. He built her up like a temple just to destroy her, over and over again. When it was over, he'd forgone pulling out of her, instead rolling her to lay on his chest and catching their breath. They fell asleep that way, warm and comfortable and together. Looking down at the hand resting on his chest, she was surprised to see no blood.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Day 14

Raven's tenacity was something to be admired. Though she hated the girl for reasons still unknown to herself, Cheyenne had to admit that things got done when she was doing them. A communications tent was put up with live video and audio links to the Ark. Kids were lining up to talk to their families. Neither she nor Bellamy made any move to go talk to anyone, despite Clarke's urging to Bellamy that he needed to talk to the Chancellor. While she knew Clarke was right – Clarke was always right – she didn't blame Bellamy for avoiding it. When you shoot a man, that doesn't just go away because he didn't die.

Sitting on the top level of the dropship, Cheyenne observed Octavia as she cleaned up the grounder and gave him food and water. Miller was delivering more bad news to parents of dead kids, and Cheyenne had offered to supervise Bellamy's little sister while he was out hunting. He had been reluctant to let her leave the walls since he'd kidnapped the very man she was babysitting for fear of her getting caught up in retaliation. Their relationship had shifted slightly to where they were speaking to one another in public, instead of communicating through Clarke or in the shadow of the dropship when no one was looking. He no longer cared if people saw him bring her food or water, or if their hands brushed together when they stood a little too closely. Miller told no one of the things he'd seen and heard between them the day of the hurricane, and it sparked a small bud of trust in Cheyenne's chest for him. Gossip spread like wildfire throughout the hundred, so knowing she knew someone that wouldn't blab other people's business felt like it might be an ace in her pocket one day.

It was embarrassing when Miller's voice coming up the ladder shook Cheyenne into awareness. She had dozed off leaning against the wall while Octavia fed the grounder again. She tried to shake the haze out of her head that had been making her sleepy for days.

"Come on, Octavia. It's time for you to go," Cheyenne said quietly. Bellamy had given Octavia a certain amount of time that she could have with the grounder and judging by the disorientation that came with waking up, that time had long passed.

"You know, for a murderer, you sure are good at being my brother's lapdog," Octavia snapped, snarling her nose in distaste.

Cheyenne didn't take the bait. She watched impassively as the other girl stomped down the ladder. Once she was gone, Cheyenne sighed to herself. Miller's head popped up a few seconds later, covered in his green beanie. She didn't bother to move, knowing he had enough common sense to realize when someone didn't like being crowded.

"I don't see her problem with dogs. They're supposed to be man's best friend," Miller joked a few seconds after he sat down. Her lips pulled up into a slight smile, but the sleep didn't leave her face. "You can sleep if you want. I won't leave you alone with him."

"I'm not scared of the grounder." Cheyenne eyed the man tied up in the corner. "I've seen scarier."

Miller nodded, letting the silence stretch between them for a few minutes. With the hatch open, some of the sounds from below filtered up for them to hear. "That's what you got arrested for, right? Seeing scarier, and getting rid of it." He felt her looking at him, wondering how he knew anything about her when no one else in camp seemed to. "My dad was one of the guards that arrested you – David Miller."

"I don't remember being arrested," she admitted quietly. "Your dad could have been right in my face and I would never know."

Now uncomfortable, she slipped down the ladder to find Clarke. She was more tired than before by the time she got to the bottom rung, but she pushed that to the back of her mind. Clarke was standing outside of the communication tent wearily when Cheyenne finally found her.

"There's a council meeting tomorrow. They want me to be there," Clarke said as she felt the other girl stop beside her.

"You should be – you and Bellamy both should be." Cheyenne could see the outline of someone already inside the tent. "I'm worried, Clarke. They might pardon me, but that doesn't mean much to the people on the Ark."

"I'll make it mean something. I'll make it mean something for you and for Bellamy. You're… you're my best friend. I'm not going to let them hurt you." Clarke's voice was like steel. It gave Cheyenne hope because once Clarke set her mind to something, she made sure it was done.

"You're my best friend, too. Just, you know, in case you didn't already know. You and Bellamy are the first people to ever be my friend."

Cheyenne wandered off again, wondering why she was being so disgustingly sentimental that day. The words she'd said hung in the air around Clarke. They pressed in on her, suffocating her and making her feel helpless. She was a leader here, with Bellamy. She could take care of people, take care of her friends, take care of Cheyenne and Finn and Bellamy and Octavia and Raven and the rest of the hundred. When the Ark came down, though, what would she be able to do to keep her promise? How could she protect them from the people that didn't know them the way she did? Her best friend was a girl that had never had a friend before, and when the Ark came down, the girl that had attacked someone because she thought he'd hurt her was going to be snatched away and locked back in a cage. Bellamy was going to be executed for the attempted murder of Chancellor Jaha, or at the very least, locked up for the rest of his life. She had to do something. She had to protect them, the way they protected her and the way they protected each other.


	13. Chapter 12

Day 15

She'd slept in again. Somehow, she was still tired and groggy. Pushing past it, Cheyenne washed herself off with a cloth and water from the bucket next to the bed before dressing in her newly washed skinny jeans and the shirt Bellamy had gotten from Roma's tent. The air had cooled off dramatically within a few days, and the sun no longer made her sweat like an animal. The bruises around her neck were gone leaving her with no need for the sweatshirt until dusk when the temperature dropped. Now that he was trying to stop being so rough with her, all but the marks he left with his mouth under her shirt and the slight handprints on her thighs and hips were gone.

Before she could leave the tent, Bellamy was barging in. His face was serious, but the look in his eye made her heart jump into her throat. "What's wrong?" she questioned gently.

The night before, he'd asked her why she never asked him questions and blindly went along with everything he said. When she told him that she'd never been allowed to question anyone, he said that she could ask whoever whatever she wanted from then on. He'd told her, regardless of what bullshit Octavia could say because she was mad, she was not his dog just because she was his.

He hesitated before he answered her. "We're going with Clarke to find a bunker. It's supposed to have enough supplies to get them through the winter. And then we're leaving."

"Leaving, as in forever? Or leaving, as in, for a little while?" Panic speared her in the chest. It made her wonder if Jasper had felt this when he'd been speared their first day on the ground. When he didn't clarify, she knew. "But, Clarke is coming with us, right? We can't go without her."

"I wasn't – well, I wasn't going to tell her." Seeing her wide eyes and rapid breathing, Bellamy jumped to explain. Scaring her was the opposite of his intentions. "I can't stay here, baby. The Ark is going to kill me when they get here, and they're going to lock you up again." He sat next to her on the bed, brushing her hair back over her shoulder. "Clarke is going to have it good when they get here. We're not. I just want to protect you."

Sucking in a shaky breath, she tried to reorient herself to the problem at hand. He was right, in every account. The thought of leaving Clarke behind terrified her.

"You still trust me, don't you?"

"With everything." Her answer was immediate, with no hesitation. Cheyenne knew she'd follow him out of an airlock if he asked her to. "I'll put our clothes in a bag."

Half an hour later, she was waiting at the gate with an extra water skin and a bag with their clothes and two blankets. After showing Cheyenne the coordinates that Kane had given her, Clarke and Bellamy followed her. The walk to the depot was tense and quiet and left her more tired than before. The area that supposedly held the bunker was nothing but marsh and swamp. Their boots were barely sinking into the mud when Clarke finally said something.

"You know, the first dropship is going to come down soon," she said conversationally. "Pretty sure you can't avoid Jaha forever."

"I can try," Bellamy muttered.

The feeling of being watched sank into Cheyenne's stomach. She stopped moving to scan the area around her. There was a disturbance in the area around them, she could feel it. She crouched low to the ground, seeming to disappear in the bushes. It took a second too long for Bellamy to spot her, sending a hot burst of fear from his chest to his fingertips.

"The depot is supposed to be around here somewhere. There's got to be a door." Clarke scanned the marshy area in front of them with distaste. "Maybe he'll be lenient?"

Bellamy's patience snapped with Clarke's constant probing. "Look, I shot the man, Clarke. He's not just going to forgive and forget." He shook his head, turning away. "Let's split up, cover more ground. Stay within shouting distance." Before Cheyenne could slip away, he'd called her name. "Stay with Clarke."

Panic, hot and wild burst to life in her chest. Was he going to leave her behind? The look of anger he gave her silenced her reply and sent her shuffling after Clarke with her head down. The feeling of being watched was forgotten as her mind tried to figure out what he was thinking. She didn't know what she would do if he left her behind. Cheyenne had come to rely on hearing his voice, seeing his face, feeling his touch; he kept her grounded, made her feel safe, made her feel sane. Without him, she would go back to being the girl that spread blood to everything she touched.

"Your neck is looking better." Clarke's voice was quiet, ensuring that Bellamy wouldn't overhear them. "How are you?"

Cheyenne had told Clarke about everything, including Bellamy losing control the day of the hurricane, after she'd consoled a crying Clarke about her mother. "Good; really good. He's been… different, in a good way, I think." She tried to concentrate on the conversation to avoid the full-fledged panic creeping up on her. "I don't really have any previous experience to base it on, though."

"I still can't believe you guys have been seeing each other this whole time and no one has noticed." Clarke made a disgusted face when she stepped into a deep puddle.

"Seeing each other? What does that even mean?"

Stopping abruptly, Clarke turned around to look at the younger girl. "What?"

"What do you mean, what?"

"How do you not know what that means? You know what dating is, right?"

An affronted noise split the heavy air of the marsh. "Of course, I know what dating is, Clarke. I was raised on Mecha Station, not under a rock." She shrugged slightly, trying to brush past Clarke to keep moving. "I've just never done that before."

Clarke's hand grabbed her arm to stop her, unaware how loud their voices were growing. "You've never dated before? Okay, that's believable considering how un-sociable you are." Another noise of indignance was released from the girl next to her. "But, how do you not know what seeing each other means? It's like, the space between friendship and dating, where you do date-like things but he hasn't officially asked you to be his girlfriend yet."

They stared at one another in the silence for a moment. "Okay, first, I'm not un-sociable. I just… get easily bothered by people I don't know."

"Which is everyone but me and Bellamy."

Cheyenne ignored her interruption. "And, second, I don't even have a comparison to what date like things are. Is that like, holding hands or something? Because we don't do that." She looked down at her boots, watching as they squished in the mud. "It's not like he even feels like that towards me. He doesn't want to date me, he just wants to fuck me."

With eyes narrowed in concentration, Clarke heard the twinge of disappointment and hurt in Cheyenne's voice. "This, actually, explains so much. You're both so emotionally constipated that neither of you realize that you actually like one another and are totally dating."

The sound of skin on skin was audible when Cheyenne smacked herself on the forehead. "Clarke, I am not emotionally constipated! I already know how I feel, okay. I would… I would do anything for him. I would do anything for you, too." She shrugged a little bit, but the words were still meaningful. "You guys are the only two people I care about, at all. You and Bellamy are all I have."

"I'd like to think I know how he feels about you, but I can't speak for Bellamy. I can speak for myself, though, and you'll always have me, Cheyenne."

Clarke pulled the younger girl into a hug, both oblivious of Bellamy eavesdropping on their entire conversation a few yards away. It had never occurred to him that he needed to tell Cheyenne that he wanted more than sex from her. It had also never occurred to him that she could have never been with anyone before him when they met. It made him wonder how old she was, and disgust filed him when he realized that he had never asked. Vomit crept up into his throat making his eyes water and his nose burn. The stress was too much, Jaha was alive and his sister hated him and the Ark was going to kill him and there was a possibility that he'd been sleeping with someone that could turn out to be thirteen years old or some equally outrageous age. He leaned over into the bushes to throw up, but nothing came out. The sound of his retching drew the attention of the two girls. Clarke crowded him immediately, one of her hands rubbing his back. Cheyenne went follow when her foot got caught on the edge of the door.

"I think I found it," she announced wearily, watching Bellamy wipe his mouth on his sleeve and brush off Clarke.

When tugging at the doors didn't do anything, she waited patiently for the others. Bellamy used his hatchet to unseal the doors, where they all three heaved them open. A pit of darkness had been opened, and the sight of it made Cheyenne's skin crawl. When an odd smell drifted up, it made her stomach churn.

"Do you really think this place hasn't been touched since the war?" Bellamy asked, looking to Clarke above Cheyenne's head.

"A girl can dream; come on."

Clarke took the lead down the stairs, her flashlight barely cutting through the darkness. Bellamy followed the blonde after a second of hesitation, something unfamiliar fluttering across his face when he locked eyes with Cheyenne. The smell got stronger as they made their way down, and it was everything she could do not to puke on her own feet. They made it to the bottom of the stairs without an issue, but the conditions of the bunker left much to be desired. Everything was covered in cobwebs and dust, and an unidentifiable substance seemed to cling to the floors and walls.

"Damn it," Bellamy groused. "Anything left down here is ruined."

Clarke began to dig in boxes and barrels, but Cheyenne couldn't bring herself to move past the bottom of the stairs. "Can I go back out?" she asked quietly, hoping they didn't hear the gagging behind her words.

Dropping his bag on a section of the ground that looked relatively clean, Bellamy moved over toward her. His hands cupped her face gently, pulling her head up to look at him. "Are you okay?" he asked, searching her face for distress.

She nodded but backed up quickly when she gagged again. If she threw up on him, the embarrassment itself would kill her before anything else would. "I'm okay, it just smells awful."

"Go back up, but stay out of sight. It's not safe for you to be out there alone." Bellamy watched her closely as she booked it back up the stairs.

"Hey, I found blankets!" Clarke called from the other side of the bunker.

Cheyenne took deep breaths a few yards away from the doors. The smell didn't reach her there. She pulled out the ration bags she'd stashed in the pocket of Bellamy's jacket, shaking out a handful of nuts in hopes that chewing something would make the nauseous feeling go away. Crouching down, she got into a mostly comfortable position on a mostly dry rock to wait for Bellamy and Clarke to come back out. It was a few minutes into waiting that the unmistakable sound of a gunshot cracked through the air. Standing up, she stumbled when everything started to spin. There was movement from the corner of her eye, and then Band was looking at her with dead eyes and blood leaking from his skull. She sucked in a sharp breath before she took off running toward camp. The trees loomed above her. The bushes scratched at her skin. When she looked back over her shoulder, Anthony was still there. This time, Johnston Ridley stood next to him, his insides hanging from his stomach and the knife she'd used still lodged in his ribs. She tripped over a tree root, sending her sprawling on the ground. Instead of getting up to run again, she backed against a tree, put her head between her knees, and began to cry.

She could feel them moving closer but didn't look up. Another two sets of footsteps had joined them, and she knew that it was Brandon Hardey and Ross Carter. Brandon would be wearing his guardsman uniform still, just like Anthony. But Ross Carter would be naked, and there would be holes the size of her thumbs where his eyes were supposed to be. Her fingers gripped at her hair and pulled, trying to ground herself into the here and now. Heaving sobs racked her body, and she hoped and prayed that a grounder would come upon her and kill her right then. Cheyenne felt the heavy gaze of another dead man land on her head. Keegan Grady's throat wore a permanent smile from one ear to the next. She remembered all too well how the blood had sprayed on her face and hair, the way she'd smeared it into her skin like lotion and kept walking.

The hallucination became all too real when her father's voice filtered into her head. "You're nothing, Cheyenne! You're worthless! You're trash that no one will ever want! You're the reason I have nothing!"

Curled on the ground, Cheyenne began to scream. She clawed at her scalp, and ripped at her hair, and screamed louder than she'd ever screamed in her life. Her throat was raw and sore, but she couldn't stop until she had no voice left. Then came the sobs. Tears and snot traced her face as her father's voice wasn't drowned out by the screaming any longer. Unable to stop herself, she vomited on the ground beside herself a few times, before screaming again. Anything to get the sound of his voice out of her head. The only one she hadn't been able to kill was there, antagonizing her, calling her worthless, making sure she knew she was nothing but a currency to get him what he wanted, making sure she knew that no one would ever want her.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Cheyenne came to, her head was on something soft. A large, calloused hand was running through her hair, and she was wrapped up in warmth. Her eyes fluttered open to look up at Bellamy's face. Before she could stop herself, she'd already reached up to touch the marks that had bloomed on his face.

"Are these real?" she asked quietly, dropping her hand back down. He nodded. "What happened?"

Bellamy hesitated before answering her. "Shumway tried to get Dax to kill me. To tie up loose ends, since he was the one who gave me the gun to kill the Chancellor. I killed him first." Even though he looked like he wanted to cry, there were no tears in his eyes.

Cheyenne nodded slowly, aware of the way her head was pounding as if she'd hit it. "The first time is the hardest. Next time will be easier." The words were supposed to be reassuring, but she wasn't sure if they were. No one wanted to hear that killing people got easier over time. "How did I get back here? The last thing I remember was –" Her shudder choked off her words.

"Clarke and I found you on the ground near the depot. You barely made it three hundred yards away. She said… she said it looked like you knocked yourself out on the tree." His hand continued to run through her hair, soothing her. "What did you see?"

The words didn't want to come out, but she forced them anyways. "I saw my father. I saw Anthony Band, Johnston Ridley, Brandon Hardey, Ross Carter, and Keegan Grady." Tears slipped out of her eyes. "I saw them the way they looked after I killed them. But my father, he –" Her voice caught. "He told me that I was a whore, that I was worthless. He said I was the reason he had nothing and no one, and that no one wanted me. He said that I killed my mom and I was just a set of free rations and a way to get the things he needed." Cheyenne felt like she should stop, but the words kept pouring out like her tears, burning her skin with humiliation and shame and disgust with herself. "It started when I was eleven. He would let them have me for a night to get moonshine and morphine and ration cards and new clothes and other stuff. He'd pretend like he didn't know what was going on when they left, would pretend not to notice. He was supposed to be my dad, but he let them… he…" The wails that followed were pitiful and loud, something she couldn't control. They made the space behind her eyes burn and her throat hurt and her chest heave.

Pulling her up and into his chest, Bellamy rocked her. His arms were a vice around her, comforting her traumatized mind. His whispered apologies soothed her ears. Cheyenne jerked back from him after a few moments.

"The Ark can't come down, Bellamy – you can't let them. He's going to come with them, and I can't – I can't – I can't do that again, please." Her nails dug into his skin when she squeezed her hands into his shirt. Her face pressed back into his neck, her cries dying down to whimpers.

A rage that he'd only known when his mother floated burned him from the inside out. "He's not going to touch you, Cheyenne. No one but me is going to touch you," he gritted out as he kept rocking her. "You're mine, and no one else will ever have you. Not your father, not another man, no one. You belong to me, Cheyenne. I'm going to keep you safe, I promise. You don't have to be scared anymore."


	14. Chapter 13

Day 16

As soon as she woke up, he was there. Kissing and touching and grabbing at her over her clothes. Bellamy helped her shed them when her eyes looked up at him, his mouth following the invisible trails made by his hands. His knee pushed apart her thighs and his demanding fingers pressed inside of her while his mouth roamed the soft flesh of her neck. The hickeys left behind where a deliberate claim and a no trespassing sign to everyone else. When she came around his fingers, he groaned into her skin. Her hands raked down his back before one was lost in his curls, pulling and tugging at his scalp. Then he was inside of her, squeezing her hips tight enough to bruise in the shape of his hands. He fucked her rough and fast, with his forehead pressing into her collarbone. Cheyenne knew he was claiming her, just like an animal would, leaving his scent on her and in her, marks from his teeth blooming on her throat and his fingerprints pressed into her hips to stay for days. He spilled inside of her with a low groan, the first true sound she'd heard him make during sex that wasn't a low gasp of her name or the grinding of his teeth. It jolted through her, and she clenched around him, rewarding him with his name on her mouth. He'd barely pulled his head up before his mouth was insistent against hers, his tongue pushing past her lips to taste her mouth and his teeth digging hard into her bottom lip.

Trapping her with his weight, Bellamy made no effort to move off her or out of her. "Did I hurt you?" he asked. His lips brushed against her shoulder, sending sparks back down between her hips.

"No," she whispered, still reeling from his touch. Every time his warm breath exhaled onto her skin, she lost focus and felt only him. "You feel so good, Bellamy – you could never hurt me."

"Who do you belong to, baby?" His words shot thrills down her spine.

"You."

"That's right, baby; you belong to me. Who else is going to touch you?" His lips traced a path from her shoulder to her jaw, leaving soft kisses with his words.

"No one, only you."

"Good girl." His hips moved against her and she could feel him growing hard again, already inside of her. "Fuck, Cheyenne," he groaned, pressing his face against her neck.

"Don't stop, please," she gasped, moving her hands from his back to his shoulders.

Her moans were swallowed up by his lips pressing into hers. His hips were slow and steady, a big difference from minutes before, but still just as pleasing. He sat up to wrap one hand around her throat, while the other drifted down to stimulate her more. Her eyes fluttered shut as she called out his name, the feeling of her tightening around him sending him straight into another orgasm. Collapsing to the side of her, Bellamy pulled her close and pressed a breathless kiss to her hair.

Once Cheyenne caught her breath, she tilted her head back to look at the brown eyes that could pull her from the darkest places. "I'm sorry," she whispered against the skin of his chest. "I should have told you before last night."

"No, you should have told me when you were comfortable telling me." Bellamy's fingers began to trail up and down her back and her head fell back to his chest. "That first night…did you sleep with me because you felt like you had to?"

When she didn't say anything, he had his answer.

"I'm so fucking sorry, baby." He didn't know what else to say. In only sixteen days, he'd managed to wrong her in so many ways. Remembering what he'd overheard between her and Clarke, he realized where exactly he needed to start making it up to her. "This isn't just sex, Cheyenne. You need to know that. I want all of you, not just to fuck you." His free hand pushed her chin up to look him in the eye. "You're mine, and I'm yours – if you want me to be."

"Of course, I do."

His kiss was soft. It made her melt from the inside out, starting with those stupid butterflies in her stomach. Bellamy pressed every inch of her against himself. The closer she was to him, the safer she was, and the less likely anyone would hurt her ever again. Their foreheads lingered together on the pillow, noses touching and lips brushing against each other.

"Jaha pardoned me last night." He kept his voice quiet, refusing to disturb the atmosphere that made him feel like nothing existed outside of this tent and this girl. "I gave up Shumway for a pardon."

"That's amazing," she said, her smile lighting up her face. Her green eyes bored into his, undiluted happiness shining in them with the knowledge that execution was not in his future.

"There were some rifles stored in grease in the depot; blankets, too. Clarke was supposed to take a few people back this morning to get the rest of it." He kissed her again, just because he wanted to, before continuing. "The grounder escaped while we were gone. I think Octavia helped him."

Cheyenne shrugged. "I knew she would, sooner or later."

His lips pursed in response to that. "Me too."

His hands pushed their way into her hair, and he rolled over her again. Laying between her hips, he pressed kiss after kiss to her lips. It had taken him fifteen days to realize that he wanted her to have more of him than what he'd been giving. Day sixteen was going to be the start of something different. He was going to give her what she had been giving him since day two on the ground – trust.


	15. Chapter 14

Day 19

Unity Day was off to a great start. Cheyenne was miserable. From the moment she'd woken up, there was a gross feeling in her stomach that lurched every time she moved. That was easily ignored after the first few minutes. Then, Raven had been scurrying around camp to set up monitors for the Unity Day celebration. This was less easily ignored considering just the sight of Raven was enough to set her off even on a good day. Still, she knew Bellamy would be angry with her for picking a fight. The last and final straw was when the Unity Day speech began and Jaha announced the first exodus ship launch would be in less than sixty hours. With clenched fists, Cheyenne slipped off into Bellamy's tent to sleep off her bad mood.

With the days ending earlier as winter came, it was already dark by the time Cheyenne pushed out of the tent. The darkness was a surprise as she still expected it to be light out. Spotting Bellamy and Clark talking by the gate, she headed for them only to be caught off guard when a wave of nausea swept over her. It came on too fast for her to swallow the feeling down. She ducked out of the way of some laughing campers and through a gap in the wall only to retch into the bushes.

"That was disgusting," Miller said, standing near the wall with a gun strapped over his shoulder. "You're not the only one, though. Some other guy has been throwing up all day."

He laughed when she gave him a sarcastic thumbs up with the hand not holding her hair back. It was over as soon as it started, leaving her with a gross taste in the back of her throat and watery eyes. Miller pushed a water skin into her hand, before resuming his post.

"Thanks," she croaked.

Swishing the water around in her mouth before spitting it out, she felt marginally better. She silently lamented the lack of sanitization products on Earth. It felt like years since she'd been truly clean. When she tried to hand back his waterskin, he scrunched up his face.

"You keep it. I don't want whatever you guys are passing around."

With a shrug, Cheyenne slipped back through the wall and tossed the water skin into the small bin of things to be cleaned. Bellamy was standing alone now, looking around as if he was bored out of his mind. She came to a stop beside him. The freckles on his cheeks had disappeared in the darkness, but she didn't need to see them to know she'd memorized them days ago.

"How'd you sleep?" His eyes seared into her when she shrugged. "You've been sleeping a lot lately, it's good."

Her head tilted when she looked up at him. "What do you mean?"

Bellamy shifted on his feet slightly, somewhat embarrassed to let her know that he paid attention to when and how she slept. "When we first got here, you didn't sleep. You'd lay there, but your eyes were always open."

Her eyes dropped back down, unable to bring herself to keep them on his. "It's hard to close your eyes when you see dead people in them."

"I see Dax," he admitted after swallowing hard. Her small hand landed on his forearm to offer comfort, but nothing else was said.

They were still standing there like that when Clarke approached them a few minutes later. Her eyes landed on Cheyenne's hand on his arm and smiled despite the obvious stress on her face. Then her eyes were up, glancing around at the few people around them.

"Hey, I need to talk to you," she announced, motioning her head away.

"Having fun yet, Princess?" Bellamy asked somewhat sarcastically.

Things had been a lot less tense between him and Clarke since the day at the depot. Cheyenne still wasn't sure what exactly had gone on between them or what they had seen after eating the nuts aside from what Bellamy said about Dax, but figured if it was anything close to what she'd been going through that she was better off not knowing.

"I'm serious," Clarke insisted, finally stopping once they were far enough away from the other campers.

"You always are, so talk."

"Finn's set up a meeting with the grounders. I'm leaving to go talk to them." Clarke's words shocked them both.

"Because you think that impaling people on spears is code for 'let's be friends'?" Bellamy asked incredulously, his voice getting a little louder with every word. "Have you lost your damn mind?"

Cheyenne glanced around them, realizing he'd caught the attention of more than one person. Her hand gripped the material of his jacket, distracting him. "Bellamy, people are staring," she said lowly.

A glare from him sent them all scrambling to look like they were paying attention to something else. His voice was lower when he repeated himself to Clarke. "Have you lost your damn mind?"

"I think it might be worth a shot. I mean, we do have to live with these people." She clearly looked uncomfortable with it. It made Cheyenne wonder why she'd agreed to it, unless it was only because Finn had asked.

"They'll probably gut you, string you up as a warning."

"Well, that's why I'm here. I need you to follow us, be our backup."

Cheyenne felt nauseous again, but this time she knew why.

"Does Finn know about this?" Bellamy asked, looking around for the man in question.

Clarke grimaced. "Finn doesn't need to know. And Bellamy? Bring guns."

She was about to walk off when Cheyenne reached out for her arm. With one hand on Clarke and one hand on Bellamy, she felt as if she was branching a chasm with no safety net. "Clarke, you can't go with just you and Finn. It isn't safe, even if you have backup." Her small hand released Clarke, letting her turn fully to face him. "Bellamy, please, can I go with Clarke?"

His jaw clenched beneath his skin as he ground his teeth together. When he didn't answer, she kept talking.

"You'll be right behind us, right? I trust you." Cheyenne was seconds away from begging when he still didn't answer, her fear for Clarke's safety driving her. "If something happens, I'm the only person that can go head to head with a grounder in a fight."

"They want us to be unarmed, Annie," Clarke chimed in. "How can you fight them unarmed?"

Cheyenne was serious when she looked them both in the eye. "As long as there is breath in my lungs, I'm not unarmed." For the first time in days, she looked at her hands to see blood dripping from her fingers again. "Three of the people I killed were armed guards, and I was unarmed when I went to them. I was going to join the guard before… before that happened. That's how I know how to fight, Major Byrne was teaching me."

Bellamy's hands snatched her forward by her jacket sleeves, careful not to grab her arms. His face was impassive but his eyes were angry. "No."

Nodding shakily, she brought her head down, unable to make eye contact. Her shoulders sunk in slightly, but she didn't argue. Clarke started to say something in her defense, but then Bellamy was jerking his head around to face her.

"No." This time the word was pushed out through clenched teeth. "She's not going. She's going to stay here where I can keep her safe." Bellamy looked back at Cheyenne, grabbing her chin harshly to pull her face up to his. "You're not going, Cheyenne. Do you hear me?"

"Yes," she whispered. Bottom lip trembling with the effort not to cry, she waited for him to release her before turning to Clarke and pulling her into a hug. "I just don't want you to get hurt, Clarke."

Clarke held her tightly. "Everything is going to be okay. You'll be the first person we find, as soon as we come back, okay?"

Clarke walked off to meet Finn when they separated, leaving Bellamy and Cheyenne alone. It surprised her greatly when Bellamy dragged her into him, wrapping his arms tightly around her in front of anyone that bothered to look. Her feet almost left the ground when he tried to meld her into himself.

"You're mine, Cheyenne, and I can't let you go out there," he said lowly into her hair. "I'm going to protect you, just like I said. But I can't do that if you're out there with Clarke. You have to stay where I know where you are."

She nodded into his neck. Before she could say anything back, he was kissing her hard on the lips, one of his hands slipping into her hair and the other keeping her pressed into him. Cheyenne could feel the stare of the few campers nearby boring into the side of her head, but all she could focus on was Bellamy. Then he was gone, headed off to find Jasper to go with him as backup. She was left standing alone with wide eyes as she watched him walk away.

An hour passed with her pacing around their tent, trying to ignore the sounds of drunk campers. Another few hours around the top level of the dropship, relishing in the silence with the hatch closed. Finally, Cheyenne couldn't take it anymore. The sun was just rising when she sped walked across camp to their tent. She stuffed her knife into her back pocket, pulled on her old sweatshirt and the jacket Bellamy had given her to ward off the morning chill and headed for the gate. The kid on guard looked startled to see anyone.

"You can go in, I'll take it from here," Cheyenne said, holding out one hand for the gun strapped to him.

"But, Bellamy said –"

It was Miller that came to her rescue, much to her surprise. "Get the hell out of here, man. She said she's got it," he snapped. The kid listened immediately, handing Cheyenne the gun before booking it back through the gate.

"Are you stalking me now, or something?" Cheyenne asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

He shrugged and smirked, but she knew he was teasing. "Sorry, I don't really play for your team. I saw you pacing, though, in Bellamy's tent before you went in the dropship. Figured you could use some company till he got back."

When she smiled at him, showing teeth and crow's feet at the edges of her eyes, he was floored with how pretty she was. His father had told him about the girl who committed five gruesome counts of first-degree murder. Looking at this girl now, smiling at him while she worked herself up into a panic over Bellamy Blake and Clarke Griffin, he couldn't see a murderer.


	16. Chapter 15

Day 20

Cheyenne was exhausted. Miller was exhausted. But neither one would let anyone relieve them from their watch at the front gate. At some time during the morning, Miller had gone in to get a gun and come back with it. He didn't want to be unprepared if the others came running back with an army on their asses. After a few minutes of nagging, he finally got Cheyenne to sit down. She'd been dead on her feet, bruises forming beneath her eyes from fatigue. When she'd made a face and grabbed at her stomach, he knew she was about to get sick again. That was where they waited. Cheyenne sitting on the ground next to where he leaned back against the wall, both guns at the ready as night fell again.

When the sound of a group of birds vacating the trees was heard, Cheyenne was on her feet in seconds next to Miller. Her gun was trained on the trees as she tried to quell her surprise long enough for the forest to give her a sign of what was coming.

"It's them," she said, dropping her gun. Miller didn't.

"How do you know?" he asked, still at the ready.

"Because of the forest – it's hard to explain, I just know. The forest is different when people that don't belong there are in it."

She knew he was looking at her, and she knew he didn't believe her. It was what it was. Cheyenne could read the forest like a children's book. She had been able to since her first moment on the ground. Miller believing her or not didn't change the truth.

Bellamy was the first one through the trees, followed closely by Octavia and Clarke, then Finn and Raven with Jasper at the rear. They all came to a halt, Miller and Cheyenne watching from the side to see everything play out. It was obvious that they were either not noticed or being ignored. Anger and fear were clear on every face, some with more anger and some with more fear. All were breathing heavily like they'd just run a marathon. After a moment of silence, Bellamy was the first one to snap.

"You got something to say?" he asked roughly, rounding on Finn.

"Yeah, I told you no guns!" the younger man snapped back.

"I told you we couldn't trust the grounders," Clarke said, "I was right."

Raven was next, her voice grating on Cheyenne's nerves. "Why didn't you tell me what you were up to?" she demanded, slapping at Finn's arm with the back of her hand.

Finn shook off her arm, turning to her. "I tried, but you were too busy making bullets for your gun."

"You're lucky she brought that." The anger coming from Bellamy was practically visible. "They came there to kill you, Finn."

Cheyenne's heart leaped passed her throat and out of her mouth in the form of vomit. They came there to kill you, Finn. Clarke would be dead had she not come to Bellamy before leaving. She felt a hand on her back and knew it was Miller when held back her hair to let her heave in peace. After not eating all day, the only thing that came up was water and stomach acid. By the time she was able to look up, everyone was gone but Clarke and Bellamy, both of which had stopped halfway to her and Miller to stare up at the sky. Clarke crumpled to the ground when they watched the Exodus ship carrying her mom crash.

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Day 23

The trek to the exodus ship was long and hard. For the first time since she'd been on the ground, Cheyenne was tromping through the woods like a bull. Exhaustion had taken root in her bones, and it felt like she was dragging her way out of bed that morning. Add that to another round of throwing up and her energy was gone before it was there. She was leading the group Bellamy had gathered to examine the crash site. No one could read the forest the way she could, and he didn't want them out any longer than they needed to be after the bridge fiasco three days prior. Against his better judgment, he had asked her to take them there even though he wanted her to stay back in their tent where nothing could hurt her and no one could even look at her.

Since finding her unconscious that day at the depot, something had changed in the way he was with her. Bellamy was hell-bent on keeping her in camp unless he was with her. If anyone but Clarke or Finn so much as looked at her, he was there giving them another task or barking for them to get back to work. The deep purple marks he'd bit into her neck the day after the depot didn't have a chance to fade before more took their place. Even as she pushed through the trees, he was right up on her without touching her, between her and everyone else.

They were almost to the crash site when Cheyenne stopped. She leaned against the trunk of a tree, sweat pouring off her face while she fought to catch her breath against a wave of dizziness. Clarke, who had been projecting the loss of her mother into mothering the rest of the camp, rushed up to her before anyone else could to help her sit down. Bellamy was there seconds later.

"Easy, just sit down," Clarke soothed her. She pressed her hand against Cheyenne's forehead, furrowing her eyebrows when she only felt no fever. "What are you feeling?"

Cheyenne curled into herself with her head to her knees. "Nothing, I just got a little dizzy. I just need a second and then I can keep going."

Bellamy crouched down next to her, his hand hovering as if he didn't know whether to touch her or not. "We can start back, Finn can find it from here. You need to get back to camp and rest." He looked back at the group consisting of Finn, Raven, Miller, Sterling, and Monroe. "You guys go on ahead, we'll catch up."

When she heard them all walk off, a surge of irrational anger surged in her. She didn't lift her head but there was a bite in her voice when she spoke again. "I said I can keep going."

Ignoring nausea that was bubbling back up, she pushed herself to her feet, ignoring the hands that tried to help her. Cheyenne only made it a few yards before Bellamy's hand gripped her arm tight. She tried to shake him off, angry tears filling her eyes. Her hands pushed at his chest, once, twice, then the third time he'd grabbed her wrists.

"Cheyenne, stop," he demanded, pulling her close.

"No, you stop! I said I'm fine, why doesn't anyone believe me?" The angry tears had slipped down her face by the time she had fought herself out of his grip. "Just, just… Just let me walk, okay?" A few seconds later and her back was against a tree, tight hands holding her upper arms.

"I said stop." Eyes alight with anger, Bellamy got in her face after giving her a slight shake. "You're going to stand here and tell Clarke what's wrong. Do you understand?"

Clarke had been watching their interaction with wide eyes. Cheyenne had told her about him manhandling her, but that was the first time she'd seen it for herself. Cheyenne didn't look afraid, though, which stopped her from trying to step in. Bellamy backed off to let Clarke get in close to where Cheyenne stood with her head down.

"Is this the first time you've gotten dizzy like that?" Clarke asked.

Cheyenne gave a little shrug. "That's the first time it's been that bad. I'm just a little tired."

Checking her pulse at her wrist, Clarke tried not to recoil at the redness that ringed them from Bellamy's hands. "When did you start feeling so tired? Is it all day or just when you physically exert yourself? Has anything else been going on?"

Cheyenne stopped to think back, wondering when it had started. She couldn't remember a specific day. She told Clarke as much, and about when she'd thrown up the day they'd gone to meet the grounders. "Miller said that someone else had been throwing up that day, too, but I don't know who."

"Miller? Why were you with Miller?" Bellamy demanded in a hard voice.

Clarke rolled her eyes and glared at him until he raised both hands and walked further away. "Have you thrown up since then?" At the younger girl's nod, she sighed. "But there's nothing else? Nothing else at all?"

She tried to wrack her brain for an explanation, but only one kept coming back. Glancing back at Bellamy, she saw the tension in him and the way he paced between two trees. There would be no getting her alone on this trip with him being so overprotective. Clarke had noticed the way he seemed to hover around her since the day they'd gone to the depot, and when Cheyenne told her that she'd been right about his emotional constipation, she knew why.

"How old are you, Annie?" she asked with a lowered voice.

"I should be seventeen now, I think we've been down here long enough." Cheyenne finally caved into her fatigue and sat down.

"You had a birthday and didn't tell me?" Clarke demanded, outraged that he best friend didn't tell her about it. Then she shook her head, getting back to the point as she sat down next to her. "We'll revisit that later. How old were you when you got locked in the Skybox?"

Cheyenne scrunched up her face at the birthday comment. "Fifteen; I've never celebrated my birthday before, Clarke, I don't know why I would start now."

"Did my… my mom ever visit you in the Skybox?" When Cheyenne said no, she'd only heard her outside the door after her first panic attack, all the air rushed out of Clarke. "Oh, my God."

"What?" Bellamy and Cheyenne demanded at the same time.

"Nothing, I just remembered something," Clarke said too quickly. Getting to her feet, she held out her hand to help Cheyenne up. "We'd better get going. The rest of them are probably already there."

Clarke took off into the trees, leaving Cheyenne with a bewildered look and Bellamy cloaked in suspicion. He tried to connect the dots with everything the younger girl had told Clarke but nothing was coming to him. Trying to shake it off, he moved forward and reached for Cheyenne. She curled into him instead of fighting him, all the anger gone from her like she was never angry in the first place. His touch seemed to make her realize the way she had acted toward him.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, pushing her face into his chest.

He didn't respond but his arm going around her shoulders let her know she was forgiven. They stood a few moments before setting off to follow Clarke and the rest. Catching up with the blonde was easy. Cheyenne took the lead again, following the trail that the others had made. They had barely begun to explore the wreckage when Bellamy, Clarke, and Cheyenne pushed through the tree line. She let them go ahead, pulling herself up on a rock out of the way to rest for the trip back. She liked the way she could watch them but no one could see her.

"Want some company?" Miller asked, appearing beside her a little while later.

"You only hang out with me when I'm just sitting around," Cheyenne said, teasing him. "I'm beginning to think you're lazy."

He snorted as he pulled himself onto the rock next to her. "The only time I ever see you, you're just sitting around. You're the lazy one."

The silence was easy with Miller. She didn't feel the need to talk to fill the air between them, and his presence didn't make her skin crawl. Cheyenne wondered briefly if Wells would have been a good friend if she had spoken to him. He was much like Miller – easy to be around – only she'd never tried to be his friend. She was glad for it, too. She'd never had to experience a friend die, and selfishly, she didn't want to go through what Clarke went through.

"Miller! Why the hell are you doing?" Bellamy demanded, marching over to where they were sitting. "Get out here and do something."

Miller's brow furrowed in confusion. "I don't even know what we're looking for, man. I'm just trying to stay out of the way."

Bellamy's fists clenched so hard that Cheyenne could see the veins swelling in his hands. "Then stay out of the way somewhere the fuck else."

Once Miller had vacated the immediate area, Bellamy was crowding her, standing between her legs that dangled off the rock. His hand gripped the side of her throat. With his thumb gently rubbing her jaw, he kissed her and invaded her mouth with anger and jealousy. He was claiming her again, Cheyenne knew. She knew she should push him back or tell him off. Instead, she grabbed his shirt in her hands to pull him closer. She belonged to him. Bellamy finally pulled away from her and went to help the others. A few minutes later, Raven was yelling something to Clarke and then causing an explosion. Cheyenne hurried over to where she and Clarke were standing.

"Clarke, are you okay?" she asked, crouching down next to her.

"Get back, I don't want you to breathe in these fumes," Clarke said, standing and pulling Cheyenne a few feet away with her. "Are you feeling any better? Sick or tired, still?"

"Just tired, but I've been resting since we've been here," Cheyenne assured her. Doctor-Clarke was like a dog with a bone when someone was sick. "Seriously, I'm okay. A few fumes aren't going to hurt me."

"It's not you I'm worried about," Clarke muttered under her breath. "Come on, let's get out of Raven's way. She needs to check out the rocket fuel."

Cheyenne's eyebrows went up. "Rocket fuel? That could come in handy when we fight the grounders."

Clarke almost had to physically restrain herself from telling her that she would be fighting grounders over her dead body. She was saved from an outburst by Bellamy shouting for everyone to group up to head back. The sound of his voice brought up a new avenue of thoughts for Clarke to stress about.

When Cheyenne took the front of the group again, Clarke made sure to stay near her. Every few minutes, she was pushing a water skin into her hand to make her drink. While Cheyenne was happy to have someone looking out for her, she wanted to know why Clarke was acting weird. There was no chance for her to pull Clarke aside to ask. As soon as they were through the gates, Connor was there to demand Bellamy and Clarke's attention. The mention of Murphy being in the dropship made Bellamy tense with even more anger.

"Where is he?" he demanded, storming through the parachute curtains covering the dropship door. Seeing Murphy curled up in the corner, Bellamy went stiff. "Everyone but Connor and Derek out, now!"

Cheyenne flinched at the tone in his voice. Her hand touched the back of his arm, but she jerked away when he stared hard at her over his shoulder.

"Out, now," he repeated darkly.

She rushed from the dropship, heart hammering in her chest. Nearly running Octavia over in her haste, she didn't pause to apologize. Her hands were shaking by the time she'd made it to Bellamy's tent and sat down on the bed. Cheyenne put her head in her hands as she tried not to tremble. It had been days since he'd talked to her in a way that made her scared. She tried not to think about the way his anger terrified her. She tried not to think about the way she liked it.


	17. Chapter 16

Day 23 (Continued)

Cheyenne was about to change for bed when Clarke came in. Seeing that it was only her, Cheyenne didn't bother to wait. She stripped out of her dirty clothes while Clarke sat on the bed.

"Did you ever go to the doctor before you got locked in the Skybox?" Clarke asked, trying to examine her bare stomach without it being obvious. "Like, for a women's physical?"

"No, I had no one to remind me when to go. I barely kept up with my vaccines." She slipped on Bellamy's shirt that she used to sleep in and Clarke lost her view of her stomach. "The only time I ever saw anyone after I went to the Skybox was after my first panic attack. Your mom diagnosed me and left. I didn't even really get to see her – they wouldn't let her in because they said I was too dangerous."

"And, you've been sick how many times?" Clarke turned to face her when Cheyenne crawled onto the bed next to her.

Shrugging, Cheyenne didn't really know how to answer. "I've only thrown up once or twice, but the sick feeling has been lingering. I figured it was because of whoever Miller said was sick didn't sanitize their water skin or something."

Both girls were quiet for a few minutes, Clarke trying to formulate her next question and Cheyenne waiting patiently. "Annie, have you… have you had a period yet? Since we've been on the ground, I mean?"

Cheyenne shook her head in the negative. It was quiet for a while longer. Bellamy chose the exact moment Clarke spoke again to push the flap of the tent open.

"Cheyenne, I think you're pregnant."

Everything stopped. And then everything was moving at hyper speed. Leaping to her feet, Cheyenne jerked her jeans up her legs, not bothering to change out of Bellamy's shirt. There was no time for her boots, though. She had to go. It was pure luck that had her quick enough to dodge Clarke's wild grasp and Bellamy's entire body still taking up the entrance of the tent. By the time either could recover, she'd already slipped through the gate and blended into the forest.

An hour later, Bellamy had descended into madness. He ran another hand through his hair, pacing his tent in front of Clarke, who was still seated on the bed. It had taken nearly thirty minutes to move from the doorway, and then it had taken nearly every ounce of persuasiveness she'd had to stop him from sprinting after Cheyenne into the woods.

"How the fuck could this happen?" he demanded.

"She was locked up before getting her birth control implant, and girls in solitary aren't a priority. They have no chance of getting pregnant before their review at eighteen." Clarke watched him as he sat heavily on the bed next to her.

"I don't even know how old she is," he admitted. "I never asked. When we first got here… I came onto her and she couldn't tell me no. She wanted to tell me no and felt like she couldn't. And now, now she's…" It was too much, just like the night he'd killed Dax. He was sitting in front of that tree again, Clarke next to him and a dead body at his feet, as he spilled his guts. "I've been so… so rough with her. I've hurt her, Clarke, like actually hurt her. I almost hit her in the dropship after I brought in that grounder."

"But you didn't," Clarke interrupted. "You didn't hit her because you told her you never would. I know you did, she told me." She hesitated for a moment before continuing. "She's told me about some of it. I saw her bruises and asked."

Bellamy's head hung in his hands. "I practically abuse her," he whispered, "and I like it."

Clarke sighed. She wanted to contradict him, to tell him that he was wrong and make him feel better. Instead, she said, "She loves you. She feels safe with you. You take care of her, good care of her to hear her talk about it."

"Cheyenne doesn't know what good care is, Clarke." He lifted his head to look at her, anger rushing through him on Cheyenne's behalf. "You should've heard the things she told me about her father, what he put her through. If the Ark comes down, I'm going to kill him."

A small laugh huffed out of her. "I never thought I would advocate murder, but this time, I think I can."

He didn't laugh at her joke.

"If she doesn't know what good care is, then maybe you should show her." Clarke got to her feet. Putting a hand on Bellamy's shoulder, she squeezed for a second. "I don't like it. I don't like seeing bruises on my best friend. But I do like seeing her when she's with you. You make her happy, Bellamy. She's never had anyone but us before."

She was halfway through the tent flap before he said anything else. "How long do I wait? Before I go looking for her?"

Clarke shrugged. "As long as you can; she just needs space. She'll come back."

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Day 24

Bellamy had taken Clarke's advice to give Cheyenne space, but when he woke up just before sunrise, she was nowhere to be found. He'd looked in every tent, in every level of the dropship, and in the graveyard. Clarke was confident that she'd show up soon, but he felt like he was losing his mind.

After running from Bellamy's tent the night before, Cheyenne had immediately regretted not grabbing her jacket or shoes. It was cold outside and she was cold inside. A vacancy had filled her chest the moment Clarke had spoken.

 

Cheyenne, I think you're pregnant.

 

It replayed over and over in her head. It was the only thing she could think, or hear, or feel. Her breaths came in heavy gasps. There wasn't enough oxygen on all of Earth to make her breathe.

 

Cheyenne, I think you're pregnant.

 

The woods had taken her as their own, enveloping her into their bark covered arms and leaf-lined hands. She slipped through the trees until she came to the stream where the hundred came to bathe. The waterfall was loud, but not loud enough to drown out her head.

 

Cheyenne, I think you're pregnant.

 

Ignoring another bout of dizziness and exhaustion, she kept going. The dirt pulled at her feet, the branches grabbed at her skin. Finally, she couldn't go anymore. Her subconscious had brought her back around to the gates of camp – back to Bellamy – but she wasn't ready to go in. A large tree separated her from the sightline of the watch posted at the gate. Curling up behind it, she tried to sleep.

The sun had come up by the time she moved again. Sleep didn't come, no matter how still she lay. Frost had settled into her hair, and goosebumps were covering her shivering skin. Her toes had gone numb from her position hours before, and it took nearly ten minutes for her to be able to move them without pain shooting up her calves. Cheyenne could hear campers moving around beyond the wall, too many up and about for her to slip in unseen.

Miller spotted her before she'd even made it to the gate. He took one look at her before walking out to meet her. "Come on, we'll go through the break in the wall over here."

She followed without question. Her arms wrapped around herself, trying to hold onto warmth she didn't have.

"Have you been out there all night? Bellamy is going insane looking for you." Finally, they were at the gap in the fence that Finn and Clarke had snuck through with Charlotte. "Hey, don't go to the dropship. People are getting sick, puking up blood and bleeding from their eyes."

"What?" Cheyenne demanded, snapping around to face him. "Does Bellamy have it? Does Clarke?"

Whatever else he was going to say was cut off by her slipping through the gap in the fence and sprinting for Bellamy's tent. Miller cursed under his breath but left to go back to his post. If she wanted to be stubborn, that was her own problem. He couldn't force her not to run straight into harm's way.

No one was in their tent. Stripping out of Bellamy's t-shirt, she pulled on her tank top and sweatshirt. Quicker than she ever had, she washed off her muddy feet before pulling on the first socks she saw. They were dirty and she knew it as soon as they covered her feet. Boots came next. Then she was up and out, hoping that moving around would warm her up. Someone tried to stop her from barging into the dropship. Her fist drove into their face, knocking them back and out of the way.

Once inside, Clarke was the first person she saw. There was blood dripping from her eyes and nose and the corner of her mouth. Cheyenne stopped in her tracks. "Is that real?" she asked, her voice shaky as she pointed to Clarke's face.

Clarke's eyes widened in panic. "Get the hell out of here! Now! You can't get sick, Cheyenne, get out!" When the younger girl didn't move, she shouted again. "Go!"

Turning around to run, Cheyenne rammed full force into Bellamy's chest. His hands caught her before she could fall back. Surprise colored both of their faces before he was dragging her away from the dropship. They didn't stop until he'd nearly shoved her into their tent.

"Where the fuck have you been?" His voice was a growl, deep and low, while his eyes burned into her.

"Just outside the gate," she answered. Her voice shook and her bottom lip trembled. "I went to the creek and then I came back and I stayed by the gate all night."

His hands came at her, causing her to flinch away. Instead of grabbing her, like he'd done so many times, he dragged her into his chest, kissing her hair and hugging her as tight as he could. "Why didn't you come back?" His voice broke somewhere in the middle, but it was hard to tell with his head buried in her hair.

"I thought you wouldn't want me anymore."

This made him pull away, his hands gentle on her arms. "Don't ever say that again." Bellamy kissed her, his hands moving up to tangle in her hair as his lips moved softly against hers. Pulling back to where only their foreheads were touching, he looked into her beautiful green eyes. "Never, ever say that again."

They stood soaking one another in until Bellamy's tent flap was opened with no warning. Jasper was standing there with wide eyes, obviously not expecting someone else to be in his tent with him.

"What, Jasper?" Bellamy demanded when all he did was stand there.

"Oh, uh, sorry, there's just – there's a situation out here – I just –"

"Get out," Bellamy snapped, cutting off the younger boy's stuttering. He kissed Cheyenne again before pulling back from her completely. "I have to go fix this, but baby, please, stay in here. No matter what, just, please stay in here. You can't get sick."

Cheyenne nodded, knowing that he and Clarke were right. She didn't like that Clarke was sick and she couldn't be there. She didn't like that Bellamy had to go out there and risk himself. She didn't like any of it, but she would listen to whatever he said, just as she always did.

"Please, be careful."

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The waiting was hell. Cheyenne could hear camp going to hell outside of the tent. Occasionally, she'd hear yelling and then Bellamy's voice was there to shout for everyone to get back to work. She tried to busy herself by scrubbing the dirty clothes out in the water bucket they kept, but what only took so long. Despite not sleeping at all the night before and the exhaustion that had taken over, she still couldn't sleep. She vaguely recalled the patience she'd had when she was in the Skybox. Her life had been an endless wait for death, painting on the white walls with blood that wasn't real. Now, she was waiting for life, and nothing could keep her focus but the tent flap that Bellamy was supposed to walk through.

When three gunshots echoed through camp, it echoed in her heart as well. It was too much. She would kill herself waiting before this sickness would kill her. Cheyenne burst out of the tent. Everyone had crowded around the dropship in a circle around Clarke, who was holding a gun, and Bellamy. She watched from a distance as Bellamy hit a boy in the throat with a gun and then as Finn caught Clarke before she could hit the ground. Her heart pounded hard in her chest, and all she could see was Clarke's weak form being held in Finn's arms. Octavia burst through the circle of people, but her words got lost in the ringing in Cheyenne's ears. She was frozen even as everyone dissipated from the circle. Bellamy ducked into a tent with a few people following, but even then, she couldn't move.

"Hey, you alright?" Miller's hand brushed her arm, startling her out of her stupor. "Let's get you out of here."

He guided her away by a soft touch on her elbow, leading her back to Bellamy's tent. Tears welled up in her eyes uncontrollably, but she tried to keep her face unaffected. This was the second time in one day that Nathan Miller was extending his hand to help her and expecting nothing in return. She let him sit her at the edge of the tent and rig the flap to stay propped open while he sat beside her.

"He's going to be fine; so is Clarke."

"How do you know?" Cheyenne asked, her voice barely a whisper. She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and bit down, trying to keep herself from crying.

Miller snorted. "I don't, I'm just trying to make you feel better."

The awful joke made her laugh, and even though she felt guilty, she kept laughing quietly. Bellamy was storming out of the tent with Raven, Finn, Jasper, and another boy hot on his heels. She was on her feet in seconds, barely stopping herself from sprinting out to meet him. Cheyenne's hands clenched into fists when he stopped a few feet away from her.

"How come every time I'm not around, he is?" Bellamy demanded, motioning to Miller with his gun. Angry eyes bored into hers, causing her to wilt pathetically.

Miller's eyebrows shot up in surprise and he brought himself to his feet. "Hey, whoa, man; It's not like that," he tried to placate.

Bellamy was already too far gone in his jealousy to care. He stalked forward, crowding Miller with a dark look on his face. His voice was low and dangerous, eyes narrowing when he growled, "Then what exactly is it, Miller?" He didn't give the younger boy time to answer. "Get her a gun and then get back to your post." He stormed off to the gate where the other four were waiting, watching with wide eyes.

"Bellamy?" Cheyenne was barely audible over the general noise of camp, but she saw him hesitate slightly.

"Take the gun he gives you and stay in the tent. If these idiots start up again before I'm back, keep yourself safe."

Then he was gone, out the gate without a goodbye. Cheyenne watched after him for a moment, new tears shining in her eyes. She took the gun Miller handed her without question. Then she sat to wait – again.

With the tent flap open, time seemed to pass faster. Cheyenne watched the other campers scurrying around, though the number of campers seemed to dwindle as everyone got sick. One by one, it seemed as if everyone was fine one second and then leaking blood the next. Cheyenne could tell it was real when the other campers would usher the person into the dropship. It wasn't real when no one noticed. When blood began to drip from her own nose, she didn't bother to get up. Bellamy had told her to stay, and she couldn't risk actually getting sick just to find out if it was real or not. It must have turned out to be another hallucination, though, when a few people walked past her and didn't say anything.

Bellamy came back with the rest a little before dark, with Raven in a space suit carrying two tin cans. He'd marched passed Cheyenne with little more than a glance. It felt like her heart had been cut open and flayed from the inside. She'd never meant to upset him, nor did she understand why he would be so jealous of Miller. It didn't really occur to her that Bellamy would be jealous of anyone but Clarke until she saw Raven put a hand on his arm to stop him from walking into the tent they'd been using to make bullets. A sudden and overwhelming rage lit her skin on fire when the girl she hated touched him.

It took every ounce of self-control she had to toss the gun down and away from herself instead of shooting Raven in the head. She'd never hated someone more.

Then Bellamy collapsed into a tent, and she was the one who died.


	18. Chapter 17

Day 25

The sun was barely cresting over the trees. Her eyes had been open all night. Every time she closed them, all she could see was Bellamy's bloody face as he fell into the side of that tent. This was the second day she had gone without sleeping. Cheyenne was sure that she'd never sleep again. Her head swam with fear and worry, conjuring up all the worst-case scenarios she was capable of. She had paced the tent relentlessly, unable to eat or drink without throwing it right back up. With no way for her to know if the blood dripping from her nose and hands was real, she kept herself isolated and alone. The loneliness in the Skybox had brought her comfort. The loneliness in Bellamy's tent was driving her over the edge. Everything was his. The covers smelled of his sweat and the weapons tossed on the table made her think of him. With trembling hands and shaky breaths, Cheyenne tried hard to keep herself grounded. It wasn't working. Finally, she could pace no more. The hours passed as she laid on the bed, drawing patterns on the skin of her arms with blood and seeing Bellamy and Clarke die choking on their own blood in her head.

Coming out of the dropship, Clarke went straight to Bellamy's tent. She needed to get Cheyenne up to the third level before it was too crowded for her to get through without getting exposed to the virus.

It was like seeing a ghost when Clarke stepped into the open flap of the tent. Cheyenne was on her feet instantly, trying to ignore the way her head spun and her vision tunneled. "Clarke? You're okay?"

"Yeah, we both are," Clarke assured her. Alarm shot through her when Cheyenne collapsed into sobs. "Annie, what's wrong?"

"I thought you were dead, Clarke, and then Bellamy, too." She held her face in her hands, refusing to look up. "I thought he died hating me."

"He doesn't hate you," Clarke said in confusion. "Why would he hate you? No, he was torn up when you left last night."

Cheyenne kept crying, tears falling through her fingers. Her knees dug into the metal harshly but it was nothing compared to the pain she'd been feeling since seeing Bellamy fall, face covered in his own blood. She'd felt helpless, unable to go to him or to Clarke, and it was killing her. She'd felt helpless back with her father, she'd felt helpless when she'd been left to rot in the Skybox, and she'd felt helpless then.

"You don't understand, Clarke," she whispered. The older girl could hear the desperation in her voice. "Without you, I'm nothing. You've given me a reason not to die. He gives me a purpose, something to be. I'm his, I belong to him, Clarke. If I'm not his, then what am I?"

Clarke's heart broke for the girl on the floor. She'd never been loved, but she had so much love to give. She'd never been given love, so she would take whatever was given to her and give it her all. Clarke wanted nothing more than to give her the tightest hug she could and reassure her that she wasn't alone, and she never would be again. But, they were all about to die.

"Come on, you've got to get up to the top of the dropship, Annie," Clarke said. "Tie a shirt over your face, make sure it covers your nose and mouth."

Cheyenne did as she was told, as she always did with them. The long sleeve shirt was barely dry from where she'd scrubbed it the day before. Damp would work better to keep airborne pathogens out, though, so she tied it on her face anyways. Grabbing the gun from the ground and sticking her knife in her back pocket, she got to her feet to follow Clarke. As they walked, she used her piece of fabric to tie up her long, dark hair, hoping to keep it away from touching anything or anyone.

"You can't stop, okay? Go straight through and straight up. Don't touch anyone or anything. You can't get sick," Clarke stressed. She waited for a nod, and when she got it, she pushed back the tarp over the front of the dropship to let her in. "Don't, Cheyenne!" she shouted when the younger girl immediately lurched forward at the sight of Bellamy.

It was too late. As soon as she'd caught sight of him, desperation had overwhelmed her. She slammed into him, burying her face into his neck and her tears soaking into his skin. Despite looking like he was in physical pain, Bellamy wrapped his arms around her. There was nothing they could do now but hope the shirt covering her mouth and nose would be enough. They knew it wouldn't be. Clarke's shoulders fell, and Cheyenne jerked back with wide eyes when she realized what she'd done. Her hands shook, but she stayed put next to him.

"I'm sorry, Clarke," she whimpered. Vaguely, she wondered how she still had enough water left in her body to cry even more.

"It's – it's okay, everything is going to be okay," Clarke tried to assure her. "Just, try not to touch anyone. Stay with Bellamy." Clarke walked back out of the dropship to round up everyone else, trying not to think about the possibility of her best friend losing her baby to the grounder virus.

"Why would you do that?" Bellamy asked hollowly. He wiped at the blood that was staining his face, but most of it was already dry. "Why would you risk yourself like that?"

Cheyenne shrugged, looking at her fingers as she spun them together. Blood smeared and splashed on her skin, making designs that made her want to scream and cry and laugh and die. She stayed silent for a few minutes, trying to gather her thoughts through the sleep deprivation plaguing her mind. Finally, she looked up at the sick man beside her.

"I'd burn this fucking world to the ground for you, Bellamy."

No one had ever felt like that toward him before. He would have done anything for his mom and Octavia back on the Ark – he had done anything and everything for them both, but he had never had anyone willing to do the same for him. Bellamy's entire life had revolved around Octavia from the moment she was born. There had never been time for anyone to care about him. Cheyenne did, though. Somehow, she clung onto him and gave him all of herself. She had been in his corner from the moment they latched hands as the dropship plummeted to Earth. She had stuck with him and trusted him, even when he didn't trust himself.

Bellamy couldn't stop himself from pulling her into his lap and tucking her head under his chin. Both arms held her as tight as he could. He felt when she immediately relaxed under his touch, her breathing evening out when she fell asleep a few minutes later. While she slept, he prayed to a God that he wasn't sure existed. He prayed that she wouldn't get sick. If she really was pregnant, he would do anything to take care of her, of them. He laid her down in a corner to the side and moved to help Clarke get people inside.

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Day 26

Cheyenne had slept through Bellamy carrying her back to their tent. After watching the mushroom cloud with Clarke, he told her that if Cheyenne was going to be sick, it would be somewhere comfortable. She slept through the day and most of the night after being awake for a good fifty hours. Cheyenne finally came to just after sunrise. Bellamy was sleeping next to her, his face clear of blood. The sight brought a smile to her face. His eyes fluttered open like he could feel her stare.

"How do you feel?" he asked, brushing her hair back from her face.

"Tired, but okay. Maybe a little squeamish." Cheyenne pushed forward to kiss him. It was the first time she had kissed him, instead of him kissing her. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" He drew her closer, pulling her leg over his hip.

"Coming into the dropship when you told me not to. And for hanging out with Miller."

His hand tightened on her leg, just above her knee. She could feel the warmth of it through her jeans and wanted it on her skin. "What's going on with you and Miller?" His hand was heavy as it moved up her thigh and under her shirt, squeezing and rubbing her breasts. It made her forget the question as she began to get lost in his touch. He stopped abruptly, pulling her head up to face him. "What's going on with you and Miller?" Bellamy asked again, harshly this time.

"Nothing." Cheyenne's eyebrows furrowed together a little in her effort to make him understand. "Nothing, I promise. I belong to you, Bellamy."

He was satisfied then, pressing kisses against her mouth and down her neck. Bellamy's teeth scraped against her skin before he was biting and sucking purple marks on top of the ones that had begun to fade. Pulling back, he took a moment to appreciate the way she looked beneath him with her flushed face and eyes so green they could have grown straight from the Earth itself. She was beautiful, and she was his.


	19. Chapter 18

Day 27

It seemed that once acknowledged, Cheyenne's pregnancy had thrown her morning sickness into overdrive. The smell of the smokehouse had already made her throw up twice. As did the berries she tried to eat. And the apple, and the dried meat, and everything else. Resigning to her fate of useless, since the only skills she felt like she had – tracking things in the forest and killing people – were out of commission until she could hold her food down, she drank water and chewed on a piece of tree bark Clarke had given her. Since the inside of Bellamy's tent had been the only thing she had seen yesterday and the dropship still stank like blood, Cheyenne was at a loss of what to do and where to go. Bellamy had outright forbidden her to leave the walls of camp or to do anything that required physical labor. While it bothered her to be bored, she appreciated his over-protectiveness and strove to meet his demands. It wasn't until the smokehouse caught fire and hunting teams were being sent out that her presence was even acknowledged by anyone.

"Why aren't you lining up for the hunt?" Raven asked, dropping into the space next to her. Cheyenne didn't like the tone in her voice and tried not to react. "I thought you were the camp forest girl."

"What do you want?" Cheyenne asked. Her face showed nothing, but the clench of her fists was her tell.

Raven was quiet for a few minutes. They sat there watching as other members of the hundred were gearing up for the hunt. Bellamy tried not to react when he saw them sitting together but Cheyenne could read the tightness of his muscles.

"I wanted to tell you, you were right. For what it's worth, I guess." Raven's own hands balled up. "About what you said that day, I mean. You said he didn't care enough to tell everyone about me. You were right."

The urge to apologize was fought back. Cheyenne had no reason to be sorry, she'd only told her the truth. She stayed silent to see if Raven would continue.

"But I was right, too. Why do you let him do that to you? Are you afraid of him?" Raven kept her voice down, trying to contain her distress. "How can you let a man hit you like that?"

Cheyenne jerked her head toward Raven, disbelief on her face. The motion almost made her throw up again, but she swallowed it down. "What?" she demanded, before realizing her voice was a little too loud. Bellamy had noticed her distress and was walking toward them at a rapid rate. She dropped her voice so he wouldn't hear and tried to make it clear to Raven that no one was hitting her. "Those were marks from sex, you idiot. No one is hitting me."

"Is everything okay over here?" Bellamy questioned, coming to a stop in front of them.

"Uh, yeah – everything is great," Raven said quickly, looking up at him with raised eyebrows. She had been expecting Cheyenne to be defensive and deny it, as many victims of abuse did, but she hadn't expected that.

His eyes narrowed. He didn't believe her. "Are you feeling any better?" he directed to Cheyenne.

She nodded but didn't elaborate until he looked at her expectantly. "I haven't thrown up in a few hours but I still haven't been able to eat anything. Clarke said to chew on something and keep trying."

Bellamy nodded absently, staring down at her. Glancing awkwardly at Raven who was watching their exchange with thinly veiled interest, he almost reached forward to push a few strands of hair back behind Cheyenne's ear. That was as far into affection that he could push himself outside of the privacy of their tent, but Raven's stare was making him uncomfortable. People seeing him as anything other than rough and unaffected was not something he enjoyed.

"Clarke is about to leave with the hunting group. She's up by the gate," Bellamy told her. He knew she would want to say goodbye.

"Why is Clarke going hunting?" Her eyebrows came together in concern. It was the most emotion, aside from anger, that Raven had ever seen from Cheyenne. "She's the loudest person in the camp. There's no way she's going to sneak up on something."

Bellamy couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out. "Yeah, you try to tell her that. I already have."

Cheyenne seemed to take his advice because she was up and off toward the gate a moment later. The way she hurried made Raven think she really was about to go tell Clarke not to leave because Clarke would scare off all the animals.

"What do people see in her?" she asked, looking up at Bellamy towering over her. Cheyenne's words bounced around in her head. It made her wonder what sex with Bellamy Blake was like. Finn had already moved on, why couldn't she?

"Everything there is to see." Then he was walking off, too, heading toward the communications tent turned weapons tent.

Raven wondered what Bellamy would see in herself.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cheyenne had had enough. Being inside of the walls was going to make her kill herself. She had finally been able to eat something, a fish that Murphy had smoked. When she thanked him, he'd snorted but said your welcome anyways. Knowing that he had witnessed and been on the other end of her breakdown over Clarke, it was weird being near him. She tried to avoid it after that. When she saw Bellamy ducking into their tent, she went to follow. Him talking and the sound of Raven's voice stopped her.

"What are you doing in here?"

"They don't waste time, I'll give them that," Raven said. She could hear the waver in her voice and gathered that she was talking about Finn and Clarke. "What's it been, a day and a half?"

Cheyenne wished she could tell Raven that Clarke didn't want much to do with Finn after he'd lied to her, but at the same time, she liked seeing her suffer.

"You're mistaking me for someone who cares," Bellamy said. "Time to move on." Everything was quiet for a minute. Cheyenne expected to see Raven coming out at any time before Bellamy's voice was heard again. "What are you doing?"

"Moving on." A wave of violence that she had never felt before swept up and into Cheyenne when she realized what Raven was doing. "I've never been with anyone but Finn. Take off your clothes."

Part of her wanted to barge in, she wanted to wrap her fingers around Raven's throat and shake her until her neck snapped. She wanted to shove her thumbs knuckle deep into her eye sockets, just like she had done to Ross Carter. She wanted to take the knife in her pocket and give Raven's face a new hole breathe from. But she also wanted to know what Bellamy would do.

He was silent.

"Fine, I'll go first."

"If you're looking for someone to talk you down, to tell you that you're just upset and not thinking straight, I'm not that guy." He hesitated. "But you're going to have to find someone else to move on with."

Raven made a noise and there was more rustling inside the tent. "But… why?"

"Cheyenne might be pregnant." He said it like it meant something to him. The thought made butterflies flutter in her stomach.

"Okay, so? Why should that affect what you do?"

Cheyenne couldn't see the face he made, but she could imagine it. She could also imagine the look that came over Raven's face, and she couldn't wait to see her in pain when she left.

"So, what has she done to you to make you want to sleep with me?" Bellamy's voice was getting harder and harder to read, but she could tell that he was getting angry. "Do I need to spell it out for you, Raven?"

"Oh, my God. I had no idea. I didn't even know you were together."

Raven came out of the tent then, flying through the tent flap in a hurry. She slammed into Cheyenne, both girls stumbling over.

"Watch it," Cheyenne snapped, righting herself without falling. Hate was burning in her eyes. She knew Raven could see it.

"I'm so, so sorry."

"You should get out of here before I make you sorry." Cheyenne's lip curled up on one side, but Bellamy walking out stopped her from physically lashing out at the older girl.

"What did I say about fighting with Raven?"

Cheyenne backed off a few feet before spinning on her heel and ducking into the tent behind Bellamy. He came after her a few seconds later, sitting on the bed while she paced in anger. He waited for the angry tirade or the outburst of jealousy that would never come. It seemed like forever that she walked back and forth. Then her shoulders finally relaxed and she came to sit beside him.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I know you said to stop fighting with her. I'm trying."

"I'm sorry she was in here," Bellamy returned. His stomach churned with the thought of what Clarke said. If she doesn't know what good care is, then maybe you should show her. If she had never said that, he would have slept with Raven. He had wanted to sleep with Raven. But he wanted to take care of Cheyenne more.

His apology seemed to spark a new thought. Something ugly stirred to life somewhere in the space between her stomach and lungs. "Did you… did you ask her to –"

"No, baby." His hands found her upper arms, turning her to face him completely. "I didn't. I wouldn't. You're mine, and I'm yours." His hands tugged her hair down from where she had it tied up.

Her eyes closed at the sensation of him rubbing at her scalp with his calloused fingers. His lips brushed against hers but didn't stay. They traveled down her jaw to under her ear to the top of her sweatshirt. Bellamy dragged her sweatshirt over her head, tossing it and her tank top to the side together. Kisses that said "I'm sorry" and "please forgive me" were pressed into her collar bones and across the tops of her breasts. He pulled off her boots, one at a time, before peeling her jeans away. Hands that said "I'm yours" and "Don't stop trusting me" were dragged along her skin. In the face of impending doom and uncertainty, Bellamy made love to her for the first time.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hey, Bellamy, are you in here?" Monty called through the fabric of the tent. When he didn't get an answer, he barged and almost instantly regretted it. "Oh, sorry!" He slapped a hand over his eyes.

They were covered in blankets, but he could see a pair of feminine shoulders and Bellamy's bare chest. The man in question had been sleeping and sat up in alarm, knife in his hand. Cheyenne sat up, too, her hands holding the blanket to her chest. Her face turned green at the motion, but she tried to swallow it back before she threw up on the bed.

"Damn it, Monty!" Bellamy groused, flopping back with a hand over his eyes. "What the hell do you want?"

"Sorry, it's just, Clarke, Finn, and Myles still aren't back yet. I thought you'd want to know," Monty tried to explain, turning away when he heard blankets rustling.

"Clarke's not back yet?" Cheyenne demanded. "How late is it?"

"Hold on, Cheyenne, calm down. We'll find her, alright?" Bellamy tried to reassure her.

Ignoring Monty's entire presence since he was facing away with his eyes still covered, she jumped up and jerked her clothes on. The nausea of her morning sickness crept up her throat. She turned around and Bellamy was already dressed, pulling on his jacket.

"Do we know which way they went?" Bellamy asked.

He followed Monty with Cheyenne close on his heels. Octavia and Raven were already waiting by the gate, Raven holding three guns. She gave one to Monty and one to Bellamy. Her face was wracked with guilt when she looked at Cheyenne. She wasn't guilty about the gun.

"I'd have grabbed another gun, but I didn't –"

Cheyenne cut her off. "I don't want one. They're too cumbersome to navigate with." She sneered at Raven and slipped through the gate.

They set off in a group, Octavia pointing out the way she'd seen them leave earlier in the day. Cheyenne crouched periodically along the way until she found their trail. How, she didn't really know, but she could tell it was theirs. Octavia had a good eye once she showed the other girl what to look for, so when the trail split, she and Raven went one way and Cheyenne, Bellamy, and Monty when another. They walked for a while before Monty split off from them. Cheyenne crept through the bushes, wincing every time Bellamy made a noise.

Barely separated for ten minutes, Monty's voice crackled over the radio. "I thought you said you were heading west? Where are you?"

"Just keep the moon on your left, and you'll find us," Bellamy radioed back.

"Is anyone else getting this signal?" Monty asked.

Cheyenne stopped, her body going rigid in the trees. "Bellamy, something is wrong." Her voice was too quiet, something telling her to stop making noise. Alarm bells started ringing in her head. The forest was telling her something, but she didn't know what it was. "Bellamy, something is wrong, we need to go," she finally said loud enough for him to hear.

"What do you mean? What's going on?" he asked, rushing up to her. He scanned the area with his gun.

Before she could answer, Monty was saying something else and then it was radio silence.

"There's someone in the bushes," Raven whispered quietly through the crackling radio.

Cheyenne didn't need any prompting from Bellamy to lead the way to them. Her knife was gripped tightly in her hand, but her body had relaxed to be ready to fight. Octavia uncovered Myles just as she and Bellamy ran up on them.

"Myles!"

"Myles, what happened?"

"Where are they?"

"Clarke and Finn, where are they?"

Everyone was talking at once, but Cheyenne was focused on the forest around them. Something still wasn't right.

"Alright, take it easy," Bellamy said, "We have to get him back to camp."

Octavia looked up at Bellamy sharply. "Bell, what about Clarke and Finn?"

Raven went to storm off but Bellamy stopped her. Cheyenne crept over to Octavia, giving Myles a cursory glance. There was no way he would live through those wounds without Clarke. There was no point in her trying to help him.

"Octavia, listen – do you hear that?" Cheyenne asked, getting the other girl's attention.

"Hear what?" Octavia looked around, turning her hearing to the forest around her. She tried to be aware of her surroundings like Lincoln was teaching her. "I don't hear anything, Cheyenne."

"There's no noise. All the animals are gone. We need to get out of here – something that the animals are afraid of is near."

"The mountain men," Octavia breathed. "We should hurry."

Octavia and Cheyenne shared a look of understanding. Octavia had spent enough time with Lincoln and traversing the land between his caves and camp to learn how to listen to the forest enough to keep herself out of trouble. When Raven said something about making a stretcher, Cheyenne quickly got to work helping them, while Bellamy tried to get in touch with Monty again. Now that she had validation on her bad feeling, she didn't want to be out any longer than she had to be. She couldn't help Clarke and Finn if she was dead.


	20. Chapter 19

Day 28

When they made it back to camp, it was before dawn. Octavia stayed in the dropship to help Myles before heading away to help with the watch, and Raven had gone to wake Jasper to start building mines. Bellamy went to organize the watch for the day and to oversee other things. Cheyenne wandered around, worried to death about Clarke and useless again. Bellamy refused to let her help with any of the bomb-building since Clarke wasn't there to ask if it was safe for her. At her wits end with her idle hands, she headed for Octavia.

"Is there anything I can help with?"

Octavia seemed to understand without her saying anything. Looking around, she searched for something the other girl could do. She never got the chance because a gunshot echoed around them. Sterling was scrambling up from his position leaning against a tree, moving the gun in his hands wildly.

Bellamy's voice was roaring at him before he'd even made it to him. "Hey! What the hell is the matter with you?"

"I'm sorry, man, I fell asleep," Sterling said, trying to excuse himself. "I've been on watch all day."

"We've all been on watch all day!" Bellamy gripped Sterling's shirt and jacket into his fists and slammed the younger boy against the tree. "That bullet was one less dead grounder."

"Bell, you're scaring people," Octavia spoke up. It didn't help.

"They should be scared!" Bellamy released Sterling and walked back down to the small area cleared with trees. "The bomb on the bridge bought us some time to prepare, but that time is up. The grounders are out there right now, waiting for us to leave and picking us off one by one when we do. Clarke, Finn, and Monty are gone, probably dead, and if you want to be next, I can't stop you, but no guns are leaving this camp."

Cheyenne's heart burst into pieces at his words. Clarke couldn't be dead. Clarke wasn't dead. Clarke being dead wasn't even an option in her mind until the words fell out of Bellamy's mouth. Her hands shook as she thought about Clarke's cold, stiff body lying somewhere in the dirt for animals and bugs to gather in her skin and devour her from the inside out.

"This camp is the only thing keeping us alive," Bellamy continued, once he knew he'd gotten everyone's attention back on their impending demise. "Get back to work!"

Bellamy stormed off back into camp. When Octavia turned back to Cheyenne, she was already gone. A crash sounded from the inside of their tent, followed by the sound of Cheyenne screaming through closed lips and clenched teeth. Several heads turned at the noise, but no one went to investigate. Bellamy ducked through the flap a few moments later to find the table flipped over. Cheyenne was sitting in the middle of the floor, blood dripping from one of her hands while she sobbed.

Ignoring the blood on her hand, she gripped at her hair and pulled. Cheyenne wailed into her knees, curled in on herself in grief. Blood was smeared on her clothes and on her face and in her hair. Bellamy rushed her, grabbing her hands and pulling them away from where she was clawing at her head. Blood began to smear from her and onto him. She'd cut her hand on the table when she flung it over.

"Baby, baby! Cheyenne! Stop, be still!" Bellamy commanded over her muted screams. "Please, baby, stop before you hurt yourself more!"

Finally, his voice got through to her. Cheyenne opened her eyes to stare into his beautiful brown eyes. While her tears didn't stop, her fighting against him did, and he was able to get her attention on him. She was broken, and bleeding, and hurting, but she was more beautiful than he'd ever seen her.

"Bellamy, she could be dead," Cheyenne keened. "My best friend could be dead."

He pulled her into his lap on the ground, rocking her and keeping her arms away from herself. She fought to get enough air into her lungs. She was back on the Ark and the walls were closing in. Everything was gray. Everything was red. She'd turned the Ark red and now the Earth was red, too. But then there was brown because Bellamy was looking at her again.

"Please, breathe, baby."

"Why does it hurt so bad, Bellamy?" she begged. "Why?"

Bellamy had no answer for her. More of Clarke's words popped into his head unbidden. She's never had anyone but us before. Her pain made sense for someone who'd never felt loss before. So, he kept rocking her until she'd cried herself into silence. With nothing left to do but wait to die like Clarke, he held her and rocked her.

Cheyenne had been inconsolable until he'd agreed to send out a search party for Clarke, Finn, and Monty if they weren't back by morning. Once she'd been able to breathe properly again, she had let him bandage her hand. He was reluctant to leave her alone again after she had hurt herself, though, especially when he was not entirely sure that is was an accident. Bellamy took her to Octavia who was supervising the south foxhole with instructions to watch her and no other explanation. While Octavia was curious as to why her brother wanted her to babysit another human being covered in blood, she held in her questions for the time being to focus on the foxhole. Cheyenne watched with empty eyes as Bellamy headed back for the dropship and Octavia began to boss people around. It wasn't until they got word about a hostage situation that either one said a word to each other.

"Come on, we've got a problem," Octavia said, motioning for Cheyenne to follow.

"What is it?" Cheyenne followed complacently. There wasn't much left in her to fight back.

"Murphy has Jasper as a hostage in the dropship."

They made it in record time, stepping up to either side of Bellamy. Octavia was the first to speak, but Cheyenne couldn't seem to focus. Then Octavia started yelling.

"Murphy! Murphy, if you even touch Jasper, I swear to God, you're dead!"

"Octavia, Octavia, I've got this," Bellamy reassured her sternly.

"Really?" Octavia demanded, glaring up at him. "Because it doesn't look like you're doing anything about it."

Cheyenne watched as Raven ran up to them. Not even her hatred for Raven could penetrate the numbness that was invading her. "Bellamy, you were right. There's a loose panel on the back. If I can pop it, we can get in through the floor."

Bellamy nodded. "Good, do it." Raven ran off again.

Octavia looked down and apologized quietly. She backed off to stand next to Cheyenne when Bellamy started to speak into the radio.

"Murphy, I know you can hear me. All our ammo and food is on the middle level, you know that. You're leaving us vulnerable to an attack. I can't let that happen."

"Well, in case you haven't noticed, you're not exactly in control right now," Murphy responded over the radio.

"Come on, Murphy," Bellamy said lowly. "You don't want to hurt Jasper, you want to hurt me." His eyes were guilty when he glanced to Octavia and Cheyenne, then down to Cheyenne's flat stomach. "So, what do you say? How about you trade him for me?"

Octavia's small no, resonated through Cheyenne's head. "Bellamy, if you do this, he'll kill you."

She couldn't think. She couldn't breathe. First, Clarke was gone, and now Bellamy? A high-pitched ringing was in her ears, drowning out everything but her rapid heart rate. The ground began to spin around beneath her feet, and she was cartwheeling down the halls of the Ark, freefalling in space, dropping through the open air in the dropship.

"If I don't, he'll kill Jasper." He lifted the radio to his mouth before putting it back down. "Octavia… take care of Cheyenne. She's pregnant."

She felt him push her hair behind her ear, everyone staring at the whole situation with wide eyes. There was never a chance for her to see Octavia's reaction. Then he was gone, up the dropship door and Jasper came tumbling out. Cheyenne could only watch as Octavia released Jasper from his gag and the ropes that tied back his hands. The two girls gripped hands when Jasper ran around the back to help Raven. The gunshot that rang through the dropship made them both jump. Shocked back into reality, Cheyenne tried to control her unsteady breathing.

"Bellamy?" Octavia called through the radio. "Bellamy, are you okay? Bellamy, do you copy?"

It was an eternity before they heard back. "I'm fine; just a misfire. Stop worrying and get back to work, all of you. And tell Raven to hurry her ass up."

When they looked at each other, Cheyenne wondered why she had ever judged Octavia so harshly. She cared about Bellamy, too. And she was only caring about that grounder the way Cheyenne cared about Bellamy.

Another gunshot. Cheyenne gripped onto Octavia's forearm tightly, wanting to pray but not knowing how. The pain from Clarke was fresh in her heart and this added stress was making her nauseas. She stumbled slightly but kept upright.

"Alright, everybody! The show's over, get out of here and get it done! Get back to work!" Octavia shouted, waving everyone away with her free hand. When it was just her and Cheyenne, she eased the unsteady girl to the ground.

"Octavia, I feel like I'm going to throw up," Cheyenne gasped, putting her hand over her mouth.

"It's okay, calm down, Cheyenne," Octavia soothed. She rubbed her hand on Cheyenne's back, gathering her long hair up into her other hand. "He's going to be just fine, okay?"

Cheyenne nodded, helpless to do anything but listen. Octavia had known Bellamy for her entire life, since the moment she'd been born. Surely, if anyone knew if he would be fine, it would be her. Settling onto the ground beside her, Octavia pulled Cheyenne close.

"So, you're pregnant, huh? I'm going to be an aunt. When did you find out?" she asked gently. The distraction didn't really work, but it kept Cheyenne's fragile attention away from her nausea at the least.

"The day we went to salvage the Exodus ship," Cheyenne admitted.

"That means you and Bell have been together for a while now, right?" Octavia wracked her brain, trying to figure out if she'd ever seen them interact before other than a few times. She'd certainly seen nothing romantic or she would have said something.

Cheyenne nodded and then shrugged. "It's complicated, I think. Or it was, and now maybe it's not." She sniffed and tried to breathe deep, warding off a gag. "We haven't really talked about it."

Octavia's chuckle made her want to smile but she couldn't. "Yeah, that sounds like my brother – haven't talked about it."

Jasper booked it to the front of the dropship, gathering two other gunners, but it was the rapid gunfire that brought them both back to their feet. The dropship door opened. Jasper, followed by the other two gunners, rushed up and in with Octavia hot on their heels. Cheyenne was directly after, jerking the knife from her back pocket and slicing straight through the seatbelt holding Bellamy's weight as soon as she saw him hanging. It felt like no one had a chance to breathe before he was up on the ladder, slamming into the hatch, and bellowing up at Murphy. A loud explosion happened before the thin metal rod bent under Bellamy's strength. Cheyenne had to back away from the debris-filled air, pulling her sweatshirt over her nose and mouth. With squinted eyes, she and Octavia stood next to the door.

"Raven!" Bellamy shouted down the ladder a few long moments later.

"Bellamy, wait," Jasper's voice followed.

Some muffled words followed, then they were down the ladder. Bellamy crowded Octavia and Cheyenne instantly, pulling them both into his chest. When Octavia pulled back, his hands were under Cheyenne's chin and his mouth was smashed against hers. Her shaking hands fought their way between them to tangle into his hair as her back was shoved against the wall. His hand was between the wall and her head, cushioning it. The last time they'd been in this position, he'd let her skull thump the metal without a care.

"We're going to get Clarke, right now," he said once he'd pulled away from her. His voice was hoarse and strained from the trauma inflicted on his throat. "I'm sorry I made you wait."

"Are you okay?" Cheyenne whispered. Her fingers brushed along the bruise already forming around his neck.

He nodded. The walkies screeched with feedback before Miller's voice was coming through.

"All gunners! We got movement on the south wall!"

Bellamy's eyes widened in alarm. "Stay here," he demanded, and then he was gone. Jasper, Octavia, and the two gunners followed leaving her to watch from the dropship door alone.

But then the gate opened and Clarke and Finn were sprinting through. Cheyenne's head felt like it was going to burst. Everything was too much at once. She had gone from a mental break that made her kill five people, to sitting alone in the Skybox for a year, to being stuffed on a dropship to Earth, to gaining a best friend and Bellamy, to being pregnant, to losing a best friend, to losing and not losing Bellamy, to gaining her best friend back. A few seconds after making eye contact with Clarke, everything went black.


	21. Chapter 20

Day 28 (Continued)

When she came to, everything was hazy. The trees were moving over her head and she could see Clarke to one side and Bellamy on the other through bleary eyes. Then there was screaming and she was out again.

Her eyes opened again to see Raven on the ground next to her. She was sweaty and pale, her face contorted in obvious pain. She could hear her talking to Clarke through cotton stuffed ears. Bellamy appeared moments later. Cheyenne could see the panic clear on his face. It helped to chase the fog out of her head. Trying to sit up, she had to collapse back from a sharp pain in her abdomen. He was at her side immediately.

"No, don't move, Cheyenne," he said quickly, pushing her shoulders back down. "Something could be wrong, you don't need to move."

"I need to help," Cheyenne said through gritted teeth. "I can fight, Bellamy, please let me help you."

"Stop, baby, you don't need to fight. You resting is more important." His hand pushed her hair back from where it had stuck to her face with sweat. "Clarke is going to stay in here with you. I'll be fine and so will everyone else."

Cheyenne grabbed his hand tightly in hers, the one not pressing against her lower stomach. "They can all die as long as you're okay, Bellamy," she said seriously, staring up into his beautiful brown eyes.

"Bell, I'm sorry but we've got to go," Octavia said, rushing into the dropship. She was gone again seconds after, strapping her sword to herself as she walked.

Bellamy kissed Cheyenne softly, squeezing her hand like he didn't want to let go. "You stay here and don't leave the dropship until I come back, Cheyenne. Don't leave for anything at all. I'll come to you. Do you understand?" he demanded. His voice sounded strained, but the look in his eye told her he was serious.

"Whatever you want," she responded, surging up to kiss him one last time.

He was gone, and she was lying back next to Raven, tears slipping out of her eyes. Some made it into her ears, but she didn't bother to wipe at them. Eventually, she fell unconscious again.

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Day 29

Where her eyes opened again, her head was in Clarke's lap. The older girl was stroking her hair absently, but her eyes were going back from Raven to somewhere else in the room that she couldn't see. Clarke noticed she was awake a few seconds later.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" she asked, voice quiet in the crowd of delinquents around them. Her smile was strained but Cheyenne was just happy to see it again.

"Better now that I know you're okay," Cheyenne admitted. "I thought –" Her breath hitched in her throat.

"But I'm okay, I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere, and Bellamy and Finn will be back soon," Clarke reassured her. "You can't stress yourself so much, it's going to hurt the baby."

Cheyenne felt guilt creep up her throat. "I keep forgetting." Her hand went back to her stomach, where she'd felt the sharp pain before. "Nothing feels different. I don't… I don't know if I even want it. I don't know if he wants it."

Clarke's chest tightened when she felt how despondent Cheyenne was becoming. She had dropped a bomb on the younger girl right before an emotional nuclear war obliterated her. "You guys will have plenty of opportunities to talk about it when he gets back."

Clarke helped her drink some water and eat some of the berries they'd had rationed for winter. Once she'd eaten some, Cheyenne realized just how long it had been since she'd eaten anything. She kept that information to herself, not wanting to upset Clarke.

"Where did he go?" Cheyenne finally asked, a little while later. She sucked in a sharp breath when Clarke hesitated.

It was Miller who stopped Clarke from lying. He had pushed his way through the other people at sat down with them seconds before the lie had slithered off her tongue. He's fine, he's with Finn, they just had to finish up some stuff outside.

"I knew you were lazy," Miller teased. "You slept through an explosion."

"Let me guess, you were in here keeping me company when it happened, right?" Cheyenne dug back. They shared a tense almost-smile before Cheyenne went back to the original question. "Where is Bellamy?"

"The grounders had us surrounded, so we blew the rocket fuel beneath us to fry them up. Bellamy and Finn took off beforehand," Miller told her.

"But they got away?" she demanded. She didn't try to get up again, but Clarke could tell by the way she tensed up that she wanted to. "You're sure?"

"We saw them gearing up together to run before the door got shut, so yeah, we're pretty sure."

Clarke watched as Miller's honestly soothed Cheyenne. It felt like a million years ago, but she remembered that he had been the one to volunteer to tell parents about their dead kids. She wondered if he would be the one stuck doing it again if the Ark had survivors. Cheyenne stayed awake for a few hours, lying back on Clarke's lap with Miller sitting beside her. Selfishly, she wished it was Bellamy instead of Miller, but decided that she liked Miller being alive, too. It was a hard thing to consider, Bellamy being dead. So, she ignored it. She ignored it the way she'd ignored Anthony Band, Johnston Ridley, Brandon Hardey, Ross Carter, and Keegan Grady for four years. She stared blankly at the ceiling of the dropship and pretended it wasn't happening until she fell asleep.

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*Part 2 is titled Bloody Hands*


End file.
